UC-NRLF 


B    M    IDS    15 La 


I 


II1 


7'^.f^ 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


BOEDEE  BEAGLES 


TALE   OF   MISSISSIPPI 


BY  W.  GILMORE  SIMMS, 

.IUTHCR  OF  "RICHARD   HURDIS,"  "THE  PARTISAN,"    "  MELLICHAMPE  ' 
"  KATHARINE  WALTON,'1  "  THE  SCOUT,1'  "  WOODCRAFT,"  ETC 


"So,  at  length, 

The  city,  like  a  camp  in  mutiny, 
Saw  nothing-  else  to  wal^  her  streets  unharmed 
But  these,  your  free  companions." 

VAN  ARTEVELDE. 


OFTHE 

DIVERSITY 


DONOHUE,  HENNEBERRY  & 

407-425  DEARBORN  STREET 
1890 


PRINTED  AND  BOUND  BY 

DONOHUE  &  HENNEBERRY 

CHICAGO. 


J840 


BORDER  BEAGLES, 


CHAPTER    I. 

COURT   SEASON. 

"I  have  got 

A  seat  to  sit  at  ease  here,  in  mine  inn, 
To  see  the  comedy;  and  laugh  and  chuck 
At  the  variety  and  throng  of  humors, 
And  dispositions  that  come  jostling  in 
And  out." — BEN  JONSON. —  The  New  Inn. 


THE  little  town  of  Raymond,  in  the  state  of  Mississippi,  wai 
in  the  utmost  commotion.  Court-day  was  at  hand,  and  nothing 
«yas  to  be  heard  but  the  hum  of  preparation  for  that  most  im 
portant  of  all  days  in  the  history  of  a  country-village  —  that  of 
general  muster  alone  excepted.  Strange  faces  and  strange 
dresses  began  to  show  themselves  in  the  main  street ;  lawyers 
were  entering  from  all  quarters  —  "saddlebag"  and  "sulky" 
lawyers  —  men  who  cumber  themselves  with  no  weight  of  law, 
anless  it  can  be  contained  in  moderately-sized  heads,  or  valise, 
or  saddle-bag,  of  equally  moderate  dimensions.  Prowling 
sheriff's  officers  began  to  show  their  hands  again,  after  a  ten  or 
twenty  days'  absence  in  the  surrounding  country,  where  they 
had  gone  to  the  great  annoyance  of  simple  farmers,  who  con 
tract  large  debts  to  the  shop-keeper  on  the  strength  of  crops 
yet  to  be  planted,  which  are  thus  wasted  on  changeable  silks 
for  the  spouse,  and  whistle-handled  whips  for  "  Young  Hopeful" 
the  oiJy  son  and  heir  to  possessions,  which,  in  no  long  time,  will 
be  heard  best  of  under  the' auctioneer's  hammer  The  popu- 

166365 


12  BORDER  BEAGLES. 

iation  of  the  village  was  increasing  rabidly  ;  and  what  with  the 
sharp  militia  colonel,  in  his  new  box  coat,  squab  white  hat, 
trim  collar  and  high-heeled  boots,  seeking  to  find  favor  in  the 
regiment  against  the  next  election  for  supplying  the  brigadier's 
vacancy  ;  the  swaggering  planter  to  whom  certain  disquieting 
hints  of  foreclosure  have  been  given,  which  he  can  evade  no 
longer,  and  which  he  must  settle  as  he  may  ;  the  slashing  over 
seer,  prime  for  cockfight  or  quarter-race,  and  not  unwilling  to 
try  his  own  prowess  upon  his  neighbor,  should  occasion  serve 
and  all  other  sports  fail ;  the  pleading  and  impleaded,  prosecu 
tor  and  prosecuted,  witnesses  and  victims  —  Raymond  never 
promised  more  than  at  present  to  swell  beyond  all  reasonable 
boundaries,  and  make  a  noise  in  the  little  world  round  it. 

Court-day  is  a  day  to  remember  in  the  West,  either  for  the 
parts  witnessed  or  the  parts  taken  in  the  various  performances  ; 
and  whether  the  party  be  the  loser  of  an  eye  or  ear,  or  has 
merely  helped  another  to  the  loss  of  both,  the  case  is  still 
the  same ;  the  event  is  not  usually  forgotten. 

The  inference  was  fair  that  there  would  be  a  great  deal  of 
this  sort  of  prime  brutality  performed  at  the  present  time. 
Among  the  crowd  might  be  seen  certain  men  who  had  already 
distinguished  themselves  after  this  manner,  and  who  strutted 
and  swaggered  from  pillar  to  post,  as  if  conscious  that  the  eyes 
of  many  were  upon  them,  either  in  scorn  or  admiration.  No 
toriety  is  a  sort  of  fame  which  the  vulgar  mind  essentially 
enjoys  beyond  any  other ;  and  we  are  continually  reminded, 
while  among  the  crowd,  of  the  fellow  in  the  play,  who  says 
he  "  loves  to  be  contemptible."  Some  of  these  creatures 
had  lost  an  eye,  some  an  ear ;  others  had  their  faces  scarred 
with  the  strokes  of  knives;  and  a  close  inspection  of  others 
might  have  shown  certain  tokens  about  their  necks,  which  tes 
tified  to  bloody  ground  fights,  in  which  their  gullets  formed  an 
acquaintance  with  the  enemy's  teeth,  not  over-well  calculated 
to  make  them  desire  new  terms  of  familiarity.  Perhaps,  in 
most  cases,  these  wretches  had  only  been  saved  from  just  pun 
ishment  by  the  humane  intervention  of  the  spectators  —  a  hu 
manity  that  is  too  often  warmed  into  volition,  only  when  the 
proprietor  grows  sated  with  the  sport.  All  was  crowd  and  con 
fusion.  At  one  moment  the  main  street  in  Raymond  was  abBO- 


COURT  SEASON.  13 

lutely  choked  by  the  press  of  conflicting  vehicles.  Judge  Bun 
kelPs  sulky  hitched  wheels  with  the  carriage  of  Colonel  Fish- 
hawk,  and  'Squire  Dickens'  bran  new  barouche,  brought  up 
from  Orleans  only  a  week  before,  was  "  staved  all  to  flinders" 
—  so  said  our  landlady  —  "agin  the  corner  of  Joe  Richards' 
stable."  The  'squire  himself  narrowly  escaped  the  very  last 
injury  in  the  power  of  a  fourfooted  beast  to  inflict,  that  is  dis 
posed  to  use  his  hoofs  heartily  —  and,  bating  an  abrasion  of  the 
left  nostril,  which  diminished  the  size,  if  it  did  not,  as  was  the 
opinion  of  many,  impair  the  beauty  of  the  member,  Dickens 
had  good  reason  to  congratulate  himself  at  getting  off  with  so 
'ittle  personal  damage. 

These,  however,  were  not  the  only  mishaps  on  this  occasion. 
There  were  other  stories  of  broken  heads,  maims,  and  injuries ; 
but  whether  they  grew  out  of  the  unavoidable  concussion  of  a 
large  crowd  in  a  small  place,  or  from  a  great  natural  tendency 
to  broken  heads  on  the  part  of  the  owners,  it  scarcely  falls 
within  our  present  purpose  to  inquire.  A  jostle  in  a  roomy 
region  like  the  west,  is  anything  but  a  jostle  in  the  streets  of 
New  York.  There  you  may  tilt  the  wayfarer  into  the  gutter, 
and  the  laugh  is  against  the  loser,  it  being  a  sufficient  apology 
for  taking  such  a  liberty  with  your  neighbor's  person,  that 
"  business  is  business  and  must  be  attended  to."  Every  man 
must  take  care  of  himself  and  learn  to  push  with  the  rest,  where 
all  are  in  a  hurry. 

But  he  brooks  the  stab  who  jostles  his  neighbor  where  there 
is  no  such  excuse ;  and  the  stab  is  certain  where  he  presumes 
so  far  with  his  neighbor's  wife,  or  his  wife's  daughter,  or  his 
sister.  There's  no  pleading  that  the  city  rule  is  to  "  take  the 
right  hand" — he  will  let  you  know  that  the  proper  rule  is  to 
give  way  to  the  weak  and  feeble — to  women,  to  age,  to  infancy. 
This  is  the  manly  rule  among  the  strong,  and  a  violation  of  it 
brings  due  punishment  in  the  west.  Jostling  there  is  a  dan 
gerous  experiment,  and  for  this  very  reason,  it  is  frequently 
practised  by  those  who  love  a  row  and  fear  no  danger.  It  is 
one  of  the  thousand  modes  resorted  to  for  compelling  tre  fight 
of  fun  —  the  conflict  which  the  rowdy  seeks  from  the  mere  love 
cf  tumult,  and  hi  the  excess  of  overheated  blood. 

If  there  was  a  sensation  among  the  "  arrivals"  at  Raymond, 


14  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

there  was  scarcely  less  among  the  residents.  The  private 
houses  were  soon  full  of  visitors,  and  the  public  of  guests 
Major  Mandrake's  tavern  was  crammed  from  top  to  bottom 
and  this  afflicting  dispensation  led  to  the  strangest  disruption 
of  anciently  adjusted  beds  and  bedsteads.  Miss  Artemisia 
Mandrake,  for  example,  was  compelled  to  yield  her  cushions 
to  a  horse-drover  from  Tennessee,  and  content  herself  with 
such  "  sleeps"  as  she  could  find  in  an  old  arm-chair,  that  stood 
in  immemorial  dust  in  a  sort  of  pigeon-roost  garret.  It  was  to 
this  necessity,  we  may  be  permitted  to  say  in  this  place,  that 
she  for  ever  after  ascribed  her  rheumatism,  and  a  certain  awry 
contraction  of  the  muscles  of  the  neck,  which,  defeating  her 
other  personal  charms,  was  not  inaptly  assumed,  by  the  damsel 
herself,  to  have  been  the  true  cause  of  her  remaining,  up  to  the 
time  of  this  writing,  an  unappropriated  spinster.  Major  Man 
drake  has  certainly  had  excellent  reason  to  repent  his  cupidity. 

The  rival  tavern  of  Captain  Crumbaugh  was  in  equally 
fortunate  condition  with  that  of  the  major.  They  were  both 
filled  to  overflowing  by  midday,  and  after  tlmt  you  could 
get  a  bed  in  neither  for  love  nor  money.  And  yet  the  folks 
continued  to  arrive ;  folks  of  all  conditions  and  from  all  quar 
ters ;  in  gig  and  sulky,  or  on  horseback;  some  riding  in 
pairs  on  the  same  donkey  —  and  not  a  few  short-petticoated 
damsels,  led  by  curiosity,  from  the  neighboring  farms,  and 
mounted  in  like  manner,  on  battered  jades,  whose  mouths,  ossi 
fied  by  repeated  jerks,  now  defied  the  strenuous  efforts  by 
which  the  riders  would  have  sent  them  forward  with  some  show 
of  life  and  spirit,  as  they  emerged  from  the  forests  into  the 
crowded  thoroughfare. 

"  Well,  there's  a  heap  of  folks  still  a-coming,  and  where  in 
the  world  they'll  find  a  place  to  lie  down  iu  to-night,  is  a'rnost 
past  my  reckoning,  I'm  sure  the  major  IIP 'n't  got  another  bed 
left,  high  nor  low ;  and  as  for  the  captain,  I  heard  him  tell  Joe 
Zeigler  an  hour  ago,  that  all  was  full  with  b^ni.  Yet,  do  look, 
how  they  are  a-coming.  Can't  you  look,  Jack  Horsey,  if  it's 
only  for  a  minute.  You  hav'n't  got  no  more  nateral  curiosity 
than — " 

"  Shut  up,  Bess,  you've  got  enough  for  both  of  us.  What's 
it  to  me,  and  what's  it  to  you,  where  the  folks  sleep  ?  Let 


COURT   SEASON.  16 

them  sleep  where  they  can ;  there'll  be  no  want  of  beds  where 
there's  no  want  of  money.  If  they  have  that,  the  captain  and 
the  major  will  take  good  care  that  they  have  every  opportunity 
to  spend  it.  As  for  you,  go  you  and  see  after  the  poultry ; 
court-time  is  a  mighty  bad  season  for  chickens ;  they  die  off  very 
-sudden,  and  the  owner  is  not  always  the  wiser  of  the  sort  of 
death  they  die.  Push,  Bess,  and  see  if  you  can  forget  for 
awhile  the  business  of  the  two  taverns." 

The  good  wife  was  silent  for  a  space,  but  this  was  the  only 
acknowledgment  which  she  condescended  to  yield  her  stubborn 
and  incurious  husband.  She  did  not  leave  her  place  at  the 
window,  but  continued  to  gaze  with  the  satisfaction  of  a  much 
younger  person,  at  the  throng  in  the  thoroughfare,  as  it  received 
additions  momently  from  every  new  arrival.  At  length  the 
stir  appeared  to  cease  —  the  carriages  to  disappear ;  horses 
vanished  in  the  custody  of  bustling  ostlers,  and  their  riders, 
making  amends  for  the  day's  abstinence,  on  a  dry  road,  might 
be  seen,  in  great  part,  at  the  bar-room  of  the  major  or  the  cap- 
tam,washing  away  the  dust  from  capacious  throats  by  occasion 
al  draughts  of  whiskey  or  peach  brandy. 

The  latter  article  seemed  most  in  demand  at  the  house  of 
Captain  Crumbaugh.  He  had  the  art  of  preparing  it  to  per 
fection  ;  and  "  Crumbaugh's  peach"  was,  in  my  day,  a  sort  of 
proverb  with  all  who  travelled  in  his  parts.  Major  Mandrake 
took  care  to  have  the  very  best  whiskey  —  of  particular  strength 
and  peculiar  flavor ;  and  there  was  a  class,  and  this  no  small 
one  neither,  that  might  readily  be  found  to  give  it  preference. 
I  class  myself  among  none  of  these.  The  oily  excellence  of 
the  peach  of  Crumbaugh  is  still  a  flavor  on  "memory's  waste;" 
(query,  "  taste  ?")  and  whiskey  was  never  a  favorite  of  mine, 
though  I  have  partaken  of  it  along  with  governors  and  judges, 
senators  and  saints. 

But  to  return  to  the  curious  Mrs.  Horsey.  The  dispersion 
of  the  crowd,  as  it  ceased  to  furnish  her  with  any  new  subjects 
of  interest,  necessarily  left  her  somewhat  more  free  to  remem 
ber  the  injunctions  of  her  husband ;  and  she  was  about  to  turn 
from  the  window,  with  a  long  drawn  sigh  of  weariness,  or  dis 
satisfaction  that  the  show  was  over,  when  a  smart-looking 
youth,  whom  she  did  not  know,  rode  up  to  the  door. 


16  BORDER  BEAGLES. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Horsey  —  a  gentleman — on  a  fine  roaft  horse—' 
he's  at  the  door  —  I  reckon  he  wants  to  see  some  of  us,  and 
maybe  comes  to  look  after -a  lodging  for  to-night.  I  knew  the 
major  was  full,  and  the  captain — " 

"  Now,  the  devil  take  the  major  and  the  captain,  and  all  the 
taverns  in  the  state,  since  they  "drive  everything  out  of  your 
brain  that  ought  to  be  there,"  was  the  angry  speech  witn 
which  the  stubborn  husband  interrupted  the  wandering  solilo 
quy  of  his  spouse.  "Why  don't  you  see  what  the  stranger 
wants,  woman?  —  you  heard  his  knocking,  and  there  you  stand 
guessing  about  tavern  business,  and  such  matters  as  you've  no 
need  to  think,  much  less  to  speak  about." 

"La!  John  Horsey  —  you're  too  positive  and  contrarious, 
not  let  a  body  think — " 

"  No  !  What  the  devil  should  you  think  for  ?  that's  my  busi 
ness,  I  tell  you  now,  as  I've  told  you  a  good  hundred  times  before. 
But  go  to  the  door ;  don't  stand  there  staring  like  a  gray  owl 
in  a  green  bush ;  go  and  open  the  door  and  see  what  the  man 
wants,  unless  you  desire  that  I  should  get  up  with  my  lame 
leg  and  show  him  in.  Won't  you  go,  I  ask  you." 

Well,  John,  don't  you  see  I'm  going?  You're  always  in 
such  a  fret." 

"  Enough  cause  too,  with  such  a  trouble  as  you  are." 

"  Yes,  sometimes  I'm  anything  but  a  trouble ;  there's  no  word 
you  have  too  good  for  me ;  and  then  agin — " 

"There's  none  too  bad,"  said  the  splenetic  husband,  finish 
ing  the  speech  as  she  had  begun  it ;  "  but  go  to  the  door,  as  if 
you  had  some  life  in  you,  or  the  stranger  will  batter  it  down 
before  you  get  there." 

There  was  some  reason,  indeed,  for  the  apprehension  ex 
pressed  by  Horsey,  as  the  applicant  for  admission,  seeing  that 
no  heed  was  given  to  his  first  summons,  yet  hearing,  without 
doubt,  a  buzzing  of  the  sharp  controversy  going  on  within,  had 
renewed  his  application  with  redoubled  force,  employing  for 
the  purpose  the  butt  of  a  loaded  whip,  every  stroke  of  which 
told  like  a  hammer  upon  the  plank.  The  dame  started  in  com 
pliance  with  the  clamors  from  without,  rather  than  the  impa 
tient  commands  within ;  for  she  still  seemed  panting  for  another 
word,  and  muttered  between  her  teeth,  as  she  slowly  moved 


COURT  SEASON.  17 

toward  the  door,  something  which,  to  the  jealous  authomy  of 
her  liege  lord,  seemed  to  denote  a  resolution  still  to  think  as 
she  pleased  and  when  she  pleased,  in  spite  of  his  declarations 
against  her  right  to  do  so. 

"  Look  you,  Bess,  go  to  the  door  :  and  move  a  little  more 
quickly,  if  you  don't  want  to  make  me  mighty  angry.  See 
what  the  stranger  wants ;  and  remember  we  don't  keep  a  lodg 
ing-house  any  longer.  We  have  no  room ;  we  want  no  com 
pany." 

This  was  spoken  in  those  subdued  tones,  and  with  that  show 
of  suppressed  and  striving  feeling,  which,  perhaps,  denote  a 
greater  degree  of  earnestness  and  resolution  than  any  words 
mio-ht  do.  The  effect  upon  the  wife  was  instantaneous,  and 
her  hand  was  soon  upon  the  lock. 

"  Remember,  we  have  no  lodging,"  murmured  the  husband, 
as  the  door  opened.  "  I  only  wish  I  were  a  mile  or  two  back 
in  the  woods,  where  I  mightn't  be  worried  as  I  am  about  board. 
There  was  a  time  when  I  might  have  been  glad  of  a  good 
stand  on  the  road,  but  it's  not  so  now.  I  can  live  like  a  gen 
tleman,  and  why  should  I  be  bothered  to  get  breakfasts,  and 
see  after  strange  horses,  for  people  I  shall  never  see  but  once, 
and  don't  want  to  see  at  all  ?  I'll — " 

The  words  of  the  stranger,  spoken  in  bold,  free,  musical  lan 
guage,  which  reached  the  ears  of  the  invalid  at  that  moment, 
put  an  end  to  the  soliloquy. 

"  Mrs.  Horsey,  ma'am  ?" 

"  He  might  swear  to  it,  if  he  knew  only  half  as  much  as  I," 
exclaimed  the  invalid. 

The  stranger,  a  tall,  well-made  youth  of  twenty -five  or  there 
abouts,  meanwhile,  drew  up  his  steed,  lifted  his  cap  handsomely 
from  his  head,  like  one  born  a  courtier,  with  a  grace  that  found  its 
way  instantly  to  the  lady's  heart,  and  proceeded  in  his  inquiries. 

"  I  have  been  advised,  Mrs.  Horsey,  by  a  particular  friend, 
to  seek  lodgings  at  your  house  during  my  stay  in  Raymond. 
Can  I  have  them  ]" 

Before  the  good  lady,  prefacing  her  denial  with  a  long  apol 
ogy  and  a  pleasant  smirk  of  the  face,  could  bring  out  what  she 
was  preparing  to  say,  the  rough  voice  of  the  sultan  from  within, 
gave  his  answer  to  the  stranger. 


18  BORDER  BEAGLES. 

"Can't  have  'em,  my  friend  —  this  is  no  lodging-house — nc 
room  to  spare." 

"  Very  sorry,  indeed,"  said  the  old  lady. 

"  Not  sorry  at  all,  stranger,"  said  the  truth-speaking  Horsey  ; 
"  for  you  see,  if  we  wanted  to  lodge  you,  the  thing  might  well 
enough  be  done.  But  we  don't  set  out  to  keep  company,  and 
there  are  taverns  enough  in  the  village." 

"  Scarcely,  if  the  story  is  true  that  they  are  all  full,"  replied 
the  stranger  ;  "  but  let  me  alight  and  see  you.  I  have  a  mes 
sage  to  you,  madam,  and  to  your  husband  from  my  friend  Car 
ter,  who  tells  me  that* he  lodges  with  you,  and  that  you  could 
easily  find  me  lodgings,  also,  for  the  little  time  1  mean  to  stay 
in  Raymond."  » 

The  effect  of  this  speech  was  instantaneous  upon  the  man  of 
the  house.  He  barely  heard  the  youth  through  ere  he  replied, 

"  Eh  !  what's  that  you  say,  my  friend  ?  Did  you  say  Carter 
—  was  it  Ben  Carter  that  sent  the  message?" 

"  The  same,"  replied  the  youth  'while  entering  the  house. 

"And  why  the  d — 1,  stranger,  didn't  you  say  so  at  first; 
without  any  prevarications.  What's  the  use  of  this  cursed 
long  palavar,  when  two  words  could  have  done  the  wlfole  busi 
ness.  Of  course  we  can  give  you  lodgings.  Ben  Carter  told 
you  nothing  but  the  truth.  He  has  a  habit  of  speaking  the 
truth  which  would  be  very  good  for  many  other  people  to  take 
up  —  not  meaning  you,  stranger,  for  if  you  be  a  friend  of  Ben 
Carter,  I  reckon,  it's  like  you  are  of  the  same  sort  of  stuff." 

"  You  speak  only  as  my  friend  deserves,  Mr.  Horsey.  Carter 
is  the  very  man  you  describe  him.  True  in  all  his  words,  and 
just  in  all  his  dealings  with  men,  it  is  my  pride  in  esteeming 
him  one  of  the  most  valuable  and  closest  friends  I  have.  It  is 
not  amiss,  Mr.  Horsey,  to  add  that  he  has  an  opinion  of  you, 
no  less  favorable  than  yours  of  him." 

"  Tush,  young  man,  soft  soap  don't  tickle  me  at  my  time  of 
life,"  replied  Horsey  with  an  Indian  grunt  of  seeming  indiffer 
ence.  "  I  am  as  I  am,  and  it's  no  great  matter  what  I  am,  see 
ing  that  I'm  of  little  use  in  this  world  at  present,  and  likely  to 
be  of  less ;  yet  it's  not  a  bad  thing  to  have  the  good  words  of 
them  that's  good.  It  sort  o'  reconciles  a  man  to  a  great  many 
cyil  things  that  might  otherwise  bring  him  a  mighty  deal  of 


COURT  SEASON.  1^ 

trouble.  And  Ben  Carter  is  a  good  man— when  did  you  see 
him  last  ?" 

"  Some  ten  days  ago.  He  left  me  at  Monticello,  and  was  on 
his  way  to  Jackson,  from  which  place  he  promised  to  return 
directly  to  this.  He  was  to  meet  me  here  to-night." 

"  Well,  I  reckon  he'll  he  as  good  as  his  word,  if  there's  noth 
ing  to  stop  him  on  the  way.  He's  mighty  punctual  tohisbusi- 
ness,  and  when  he  says  he'll  do,  you  may  count  it  done.  True 
as  steel,  is  Ben  Carter,  and  it's  no  use  to  say  farther.  Bess 
let's  have  something.  What'll  you  take,  stranger  ?— there's 
some  mighty  fine  peach,  some  of  Crumbaugh's  peach,  as  they 
call  it,  which  is  pretty  much  the  same  as  calling  it  the  very 
best  in  Massissippi.  I  have  some  old  Monongahela  besides, 
which  I  can  speak  a  good  word  for  — sugar,  Bess." 

The  beverage  was  soon  prepared,  and  the  two  were  about  to 
drink,  when  Horsey  reminded  the  other  of  a  degree  of  inequal 
ity  between  them  which  needed  to  be  reconciled  before  they 
could  properly  drink  health  together. 

"You  have  all  the  advantage  on  your  side,  stranger;  my 
name's  John  Horsey — that,  it  seems,  you  know  already;  but 
yours  — what's  your  name?  There's  no  pleasure  in  calling  a 
man  '  stranger'  every  minute,  when  you're  talking  and  drinking 
together  all  the  while.'' 

"  True,"  replied  the  stranger ;  "  but  I  never  thought  of  that. 
My  name,  Mr.  Horsey,  is  Vernon  — Harry  Vernon.  It  is  not 
improbable  that  you  have  heard  it  before  from  my  friend 
Carter." 

"Don't  recollect  — don't  think  I  ever  did.     Vernon,  Vernon 

it's  a  good  name  enough — comes  smooth  and  easy  to  the 

tongue  as  a  gentleman's  name  ought  to  do  always ;  but  Harry, 
Harry  Vernon !  You  wasn't  christened  Harry,  I  reckon,  Mr. 
Vernon]  Must  have  been  Henry,  and  they  call  you  Harry 
for  short."  . 

"For  short,  say  you?  Well,  it  may  be  so,"  replied  the 
stranger  with  a  laugh,  "  but  long  or  short,  I  was  never  called 
by  any  other  since  I  have  known  myself;  and  never,  until  this 
moment  thought  of  asking  which  of  the  two  I  had  the  clearest 
r7~M  to  make  use  of." 

"The  old  people  living,  Mr.  Vernon t     Your  health,  air,  in 


20  BORDER  BEAGLES. 

the  meantime.  That's  what  I  call  peach  brandy,  sir  —  no 
make  b'lieve  —  none  of  your  whiskey  run  through  peach  timber 
such  as  they  give  you  at  Orleans.  Old  Crumbaugh  warrants 
that  stuff,  and  gets  bis  price  for  it.  Did  I  hear  you,  Mr.  Ver- 
non  ?  the  old  people,  you  said  they  were  living." 
'•  Neither,  sir." 

"  Try  another  sip,  Mr.  Vernon,"  said  the  other  consolingly, 
"  peach  perfectly  harmless ;  Crumbaugh  keeps  the  temperance 
society  house;  warrants  his  peach;  calls  it  sobriety  peach ; 
and  so  you've  lost  both  parents,  Mr.  Vernon  ?" 

"Both  —  all,  sir.  I  may  almost  exclaim  with  the  Indian, 
that  there  runs  no  drop  of  my  blood  in  the  veins  of  any  human 
being." 

"  Don't  say  that/Mr.  Vernon,  don't  say  that.     It's  much  more 
than  any  man  can  say,  and  be  certain.     Fathers,  sir,  are  apt  to 
leave  children  where  they  never  look  for  them ;    there's  some 
thing  of  that  sort  at  my  own  door,  Mr.  Vernon,  and  so — " 
"  La,  John,  how  you  do  talk." 

"  What,  you're  there,  Bess,  are  you  ?"  The  chuckle  of  the 
veteran  was  arrested,  and  probably  a  long  string  of  confessions, 
by  the  timely  ejaculation  of  his  wife,  who  happened  to  be  busy 
in  the  closet  —  "these  women,  Mr.  Vernon — but  you're  mar 
ried  r 
"No!" 

"Be  thankful,  young  master  —  it's  a  pleasure  then  to  come, 
if  it  comes  as  a  pleasure,  which  is  something  like  Bazil  Hun 
ter's  pea  crop,  'a  very  doubtful  up-coming.'  You  will  run 
your  race  like  the  rest  of  us,  and  come  up  at  the  post  as  usual, 
but  it  won't  be  the  starting-post,  I  tell  you  !  You  was  saying 
something  aboiit  the  Indians,  and  that  brought  up  some  recol 
lections  of  mine  when  I  was  among  them.  I've  been  among  all 
the  Southern  Indians,  except  the  Catawba.  I've  never  been 
among  them,  and  I  reckon  there's  but  few  of  them  now  left  to 
see ;  but  I've  been  among  the  Creeks  and  the  Cherokees,  the 
Choctaws  and  the  Chickasaws,  and  there  was  another  tribe, 
when  I  first  came  into  these  parts,  that  I  hear  nothing  of  now, 
called  the  Leaf  River  Indians;  there  was  but  few  of  them,  and 
I  think  they  belonged  to  the  Chickasaws,  but  they  were  the 
handsomest  Indians  I  ever  did  see  in  all  my  travelling,  and  I 


COURT  SEASON.  21 

early.  I  used  to  trade,  when  I  was  little,  a  mere  sprout 
of  a  boy,  from  Tennessee,  through  the  mountains,  into  North 
and  South  Carolina  —  then,  after  that,  to  the  Mississippi;  and 
fnany's  the  time  I've  made  out  to  carry  a  matter  of  five  pack- 
horses —  I,  and  three  other  lads  of  Tennessee — through  the 
rery  heart  of  the  '  nation,'  without  so  much  as  losing  a  thimble, 
find  almost  without  having  a  scare.  In  one  of  these  journeys 
I  saw  my  wife,  then  a  mere  bit  of  a  girl. —  What!  not  gone, 
Bess! — It's  gospel  truth,  Mr.  Harry  Vernon,  from  that  day 
there's  been  but  one  pack-horse  in  our  family,  and  that's  Jack 
Horsey  himself." 

"  La  !  now,  John,"  cried  the  wife  with  uplifted  hands,  "  the 
stranger  don't  know  your  ways,  and  he*l  take  for  true  what 
you're  a-telling  him.  That's  jist  the  way  with  him,  stranger — " 

"Stranger! — the  gentleman's  got  a  name,  Bess.  Mr.  Ver 
non,  Mr.  Harry  Vernon ;  remember,  now,  it's  not  Henry,  but 
Harry  Vernon. —  Mr.  Vernon,  this  is  my  wife.  You'd  soon 
enough  find  that  out,  if  you  lodged  with  us  awhile.  And  now, 
Bess,  be  off,  and  look  after  supper;  —  a  silent  wife,  and  a  sing 
ing  kettle  —  it's  not  always  we  can  have  'em,  Mr.  Vernon,  but 
that  only  helps  to  make  them  the  more  desirable." 

Mrs.  Horsey  was  not  to  be  sent  off,  however,  in  so  conclusive 
a  manner.  The  complaints  of  Horsey,  touching  the  constraints 
upon  him  of  his  better  half,  were  ludicrous  enough ;  contrasted, 
as  they  were,  with  the  almost  despotic  sway  which  he  exercised 
at  every  instant.  Perhaps  a  latent  desire  to  show  her  guest 
that  her  good  lord  did  not  have  it  altogether  his  own  way,  led 
her  on  this  occasion  to  dispute  his  commands. 

"  It's  not  time  for  supper,  John  Horsey.  Now  that  you're 
lame,  you  seem  to  think  of  nothing  but  eating  and  drinking." 

"  Did  mortal  husband  ever  hear  to  such  a  woman  ?"  was  the 
exclamation  of  the  sultan.  The  wife  mistook  for  compliance  a 
mildness  in  the  speech  which  was  only  due  to  the  astonishment 
of  the  speaker.  She  continued :  — 

"  It's  a  good  hour  to  supper  yet.  We  have  our  hours,  John 
Horsey,  jist  the  same  as  the  major,  and — " 

"Now  d — n  the  major,  and  d— n  the  captain,  and  d — n  all 
the  taverns  in  Massissippi.  Thus  it  is,  Mr.  Vernon,  a  wife 
will  make  a  man  swear,  sir,  when  there's  nothing  in  the  world 


22  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

farther  from  his  wish.  You  see,  sir,  my  wife  will  do  and  say 
just  what  she  pleases,  as  I  told  you.  She  will  always  be 
bringing  up  to  me  those  cursed  taverns ;  but  I'll  stop  that,  or 
there's  no  snakes !  Look  you,  Betsey  !" 

Here  his  finger  guided  her  to  the  door,  through  which  she 
made  her  departure  in  the  shortest  possible  space  of  time.  A 
look  had  done  what,  probably,  no  word  in  John  Horsey's  vo 
cabulary  could  have  achieved  half  so  soon. 

"  A  good  woman  enough,  Mr.  Vernon  ;  but  women,  sir,  are 
women ;  and  the  very  best  of  them  are  incapable  of  serious 
concerns:  they  are  all  triflers — mere  children  —  a  sort  of  gin 
gerbread  creatures,  tl^p  ginger  of  which  lasts  on  the  tongue  a 
deused  sight  longer  than  the  molasses.  But,  as  you  were  say 
ing,  Mr.  Vernon,  you  are  a  lawyer." 

"  You  have  guessed  rightly,  sir,  that  is  my  profession  indeed. 
Your  ears  are  something  better  than  mine,  I  think,  for  I  do  not 
recollect  ever  having  told  you  the  fact." 

"  Nor  did  you,  my  dear  fellow,"  replied  the  old  man  with  a 
hearty  laugh.  "  It  was,  as  you  say,  a  mere  guess  of  mine,  and 
Jack  Horsey's  guess  is  seldom  short  of  the  mark.  It's  a  way 
with  me  to  take  for  granted,  just  as  if  my  neighbor  had  said  it, 
the  thing  which  it  appears  to  me  reasonable  to  think  he  will 
say ;  and  I  could  ha1  sworn,  from  a  rakish,  sharp,  lively  some 
thing  about  your  face  and  eyes,  and  a  little  swing  of  your 
shoulders,  that  you  was  a  lawyer,  or  going  soon  to  be  one. 
You  practise  in  Monticello  ?" 

"  I  came  from  Monticello  last,  but  it  is  not  my  residence." 

"  Well,  but  you  practise  law  somewhere  in  Massissippi." 

"I  shall  in  season,  I  doubt  not,  provided  I  get  clients. 
Young  lawyers  find  in  this  their  chief  difficulty.  They  practise 
with  some  such  rule  as  governs  a  good  angler  — where  the  fish 
bite  best,  there  you  are  sure  to  find  them.  For  my  part,  I  am 
but  too  lately  admitted  to  determine  where  the  best  water  lies 
for  my  purposes ;  I  have  not  yet  thrown  out  my  lines." 

"  And  that  you  won't  do  till  your  hooks  are  well  baited,  for 
that  I  believe  is  one  of  the  first  lessons  which  a  lawyer  learns. 
I  know'd  if  you  had  begun  to  practise,  you  hadn't  done  much 
in  that  way ;  your  chin  is  almost  too  smooth,  though  that's  no 
as  times  go,  if  so  be  your  tongue  proves  smooth  and 


COURT-  SEASON.  23 

oily  like  your  chin.  But  there,  it  seems  to  me.  Mr.  Vernon, 
that  your  difficulty  lies.  I'm  afraid  you  haVt  g  >t  the  gift  of 
•the  gab.  I  haven't  heard  you  say  much." 

"  And  for  a  very  excellent  reason,  Mr.  Horsey  .  you  haven't 
given  me  a  chance.  Your  tongue  has  utterly  outwagged  mine, 
and  I  yield  the  palm  to  you,  where  my  vanity,  perhaps,  would 
allow  me  to  yield  it  to  few  other  persons.  But,  it  is  now  my 
turn,  and  if  I  do  not  prove  myself  quite  your  equal  before  I'm 
done  with  you,  I  will  at  least  convince  you  that  I  am  not  en 
tirely  without  my  claims  to  take  rank  among  the  mouthing  part 
of  my  profession." 

"  Spoken  like  a  man,  and  a  good  fellow,"  cried  Horsey  with 
a  hearty  laugh,  and  with  no  sort  of  discomfiture  at  a  retort  as 
just  as  it  was  unexpected.  "  I  have  better  hopes  of  you  now, 
Mr.  Harry  Vernon.  'Ecod,  you  gave  it  me  then  —  a  raal  dig 
in  the  side  with  a  sharp  elbow.  The  truth  is,  I  am  a  leetle  too 
much  given  to  hearing  myself  talk,  and  what's  worse,  I  can't 
easily  be  convinced  that  it  is  not  my  neighbor  whose  tongue 
all  the  while  has  been  making  the  Jidldbaloo.  Somehow  or 
other,  thinking  of  what  the  man  ought  to  say,  that  I'm  talking 
to,  I  come  to  think  he  says  it,  and  half  an  hour  after,  could  al 
most  take  my  Bible  oath  to  the  fact.  It's  a  strange  infirmity, 
Mr.  Vernon  ;  don't  you  think  so  ?" 

"Very  —  very  strange,"  said  the  other,  smiling  at  the  seem 
ing  seriousness  of  his  companion. 

"And  so,  you  were  telling  me  you  practise  law  in  Orleans/ 


"Ah,  Mobile,  yes  —  Mobile  you  said." 

"  Nay,  nay,  Mr.  Horsey,  I  said  neither,"  replied  the  youth 
laughing  out  aloud  ;  "  this  is  only  another  sample  of  the  infirm 
ity  you  were  telling  me  about  —  another  of  your  guesses  —  and 
I  will  not  tell  you  how  far  from  the  truth.  But  it  is  my  turn 
now,  and  while  I  throw  another  stick  upon  your  fire,  and  draw 
my  chair  a  foot  closer,  I  will  prepare  my  thoughts  for  the  cross- 
examination  which  I  mean  to  give  you  in  turn." 

"  Ah,  well  ;  but  '  wait  a  bit  and  take  a  bit,'  first,  as  we  say 
in  Massissippi.  We'll  have  it  over  after  supper,  when  you 
may  try  your  skill  upon  me,  for  a  first  witness,  and  see  what 
you  will  get  for  going.  I'm  a  tough  colt  to  ride,  when  the  bit 


24  BORDER  BEAGLES. 

hurts  mo;   and  he  must  be  a  skilful  rider,  indeed,  if  he  saves 
himself  a  throw." 

"  We  shall  see,  we  shall  see,"  said  Vernon,  confidently,  aid 
with  a  smile  of  good  nature;  while  the  old  man,  with  whosi 
humor  the  course  which  the  youth  had  taken  seemed  admirably 
to  tally,  told  him  a  dozen  anecdotes  of  the  young  lawyers  round 
about  the  country,  with  most  of  whom  he  had  had  sharp  passes 
of  wit,  and  in  all  cases,  according  to  his  own  phrase  and  show 
ing,  had  "  come  down  uppermost." 


CHAPTER   II. 

RETURN    OF    THE    PRODIGAL. 

"  If  you  look  in  the  maps  of  the  'orld,  I  warrant  you  shall  find,  in  the 
comparisons  between  Macedon  and  Monmouth,  that  the  situations,  look 
you,  is  both  alike.  There  is  a  river  in  Macedon,  and  there  is  also,  more 
over,  a  river  at  Monmouth;  it  is  called  Wye  at  Monmouth,  but  it  is  out  of 
my  ,prains  what  is  the  name  of  the  other  river;  but  'tis  all  one,  'tis  so  like 
as  my  fingers  is  to  my  fingers,  and  there  is  salmons  in  both." 

SHAKSPERE  —  Fluellen. 

THE  landlady  spread  her  little  board,  on  which  a  broiled 
chicken  and  sundry  smoking  slices  of  ham  soon  made  their  ap 
pearance.  Chubby  biscuits  of  fresh  Pittsburgh  flour,  formed 
a  pyramidal  centre  in  the  table  arrangements,  and  a  capacious 
bowl  of  milk  stood  beside  them.  Coffee,  which  is  the  sine  qua 
non  in  a  western  supper,  was  of  course  not  lacking ;  and  appe 
tite,  that  commends  even  the  unflavored  pulse  and  the  dry  roots, 
rendered  necessary  no  idle  solicitings  to  persuade  our  young 
traveller  to  do  justice  to  a  meal,  in  preparing  which,  the  good 
hostess  had  spared  nothing  of  her  store. 

"  Fall  to,  Harry  Vernon,  and  don't  wait  on  me,"  was  the 
frank  command  of  Horsey,  as,  grunting  and  growling  the  while 
he  worked  his  rocking  chair,  foot  by  foot,  up  to  the  side  of  the 
table,  and  drew  from  it  one  of  the  plates  into  his  lap.  Vernon 
rhad  his  good  word  for  the  hostess,  and  in  a  little  time  proved 
himself  to  be  in  possession  of  the  best  wisdom  of  the  traveller 


RETURN   OP  THE   PRODIGAL.  26 

whom  experience  teaches,  that  good  humor  arfd  a  cheerful  spirit     j 
are  the  most  valuable  companions  which  he  can  take  with  him  V 
in  a  course  of  western  travel.     We  recommend  them  to  all  your 
ill-favored  bookworms  who  carry  their  stilts  with  them  into  our 
swamps  and  forests,  and  fancy  all  the  while  that  they  can  see 
anything,  who  never  cease  looking  on  their  own  pedestals. 

Vernon  had  been  already  something  of  a  wayfarer.  Necessi 
ties  of  one  sort  or  another,  had  schooled  him  into  a  knowledge 
of  men  of  every  sort,  and  it  was  a  rational  boast  which  he  was 
sometimes  wont  to  make,  in  the  glow  of  a  youthful  and  paidon- 
able  vanity,  that  he  could  go  from  Tampa  bay  to  the  Rocky 
mountains,  and  win  good  usage  and  a  smile  with  his  supper 
every  night.  Such  a  brag  may  be  made  by  few  with  safety. 
Invidious  comparisons  constantly  rise  to  our  minds  as  we  think 
of  the  little  and  peculiar  luxuries  of  our  homes,  and  we  lose 
our  appetite  for  that  which  is  before  us,  by  suffering  our  feeble 
fancies  to  trouble  us  with  the  memories  of  what  we  can  not 
have.  Your  Englishman  is  a  traveller  of  this  sort.  From  the 
first  jump  which  he  makes  from  Dover,  or  Liverpool,  he  begins 
to  smell  out  novelties  which  are  always  offensive  to  self-conceit, 
simply  because  they  are  novelties.  His  sole  business  from  that 
moment,  seems  to  be  to  discover  in  what  things  his  present  dif 
fers  from  his  past,  and  to  find  fault  and  grumble  accordingly. 
He  turns  up  his  nose  with  such  an  inveterate  effort  from  the 
beginning,  that  it  remains  in  that  inodorous  position  for  ever 
after. 

But  we  have  nothing  now  to  do  with  him.  Vernon,  as  we 
have  said,  was  of  very  different  temper ;  lively,  bold,  frank, 
generous,  he  was  just  the  sort  of  person  to  commend  himself  to 
the  southern  and  western  people.  His  dignity,  never  apprehen 
sive  of  doubt  and  denial,  was  never  on  the  watch  to  take  offence 
at  everything  in  the  least  degree  equivocal.  To  avoid  contro 
versy,  to  avoid  the  crowd,  to  yield  gracefully  in  argument,  and 
to  forbear  pressing  his  advantage  at  the  proper  moment — were 
some  few  of  the  maxims  by  which,  avoiding  every  prospect  of 
offence,  he  gained  the  most  substantial  victories,  as  well  over 
the  hearts  as  the  understandings  of  those  with  whom  he  con 
tended.  Fluent  in  speech,  with  a  memory  abounding  in  illus 
tration  and  anecdote,  a  fancy,  lively  and  playful,  an  imagine 

II 


26  BORDER   BEAGLEH. 

tion  vigorous  and  bold,  the  profession  which  it  seems  he  had 
chosen,  appeared  to  be  that  in  which,  above  all  others,  he  prom 
ised  most  to  excel.  Such,  we  may  add,  was  the  opinion  of  his 
friends,  and  such,  were  it  proper  for  the  narrator  to  predict,  was 
the  appropriate  event  after  the  lapse  of  that  usual  period  of 
probation,  to  which  it  is  natural  and  well  that  all  ambitious 
minds  should  be  subjected.  Precocious  greatness  is  generally 
very  short-lived. 

There  was  that  superiority  in  the  mind  of  Harry  Vernon, 
which  never  suffered  him  to  think  himself  above  the  occasion. 
He  could  descend  from  the  abstract  to  the  practical  with  an 
ease  and  rapidity  at  once  singular  and  successful.  To  rise 
from  the  actual  to  the  abstract  is  a  far  easier  matter,  and  hence 
it  is  that  we  have  so  many  theoretical  men,  who  always  fail  in 
the  attempt  to  carry  out  their  own  principles.  To  accommo 
date  himself  to  the  understandings  of  those  he  addressed,  with 
out  degrading  his  own,  was  another  of  those  advantages  —  the 
result  of  actual  experience  in  the  busy  world,  which,  added  to 
the  store  of  our  young  traveller,  and  supplied  to  him  as  it  has 
supplied  to  others,  in  many  instances,  the  lack  of  money  and 
the  aid  of  powerful  friends.  Before  supper  was  fairly  ended 
he  had  shown  some  of  these  possessions ;  and  Horsey,  the  rough, 
garrulous,  grumbling  invalid,  was  not  unwilling  to  hear  another 
voice  than  his  own  occupy  those  intervals  in  the  progress  of 
the  meal,  which  he  had  seldom  failed  to  fill  up  hitherto  from 
bis  own  resources,  and  to  his  own  perfect  satisfaction.  The 
youth  requited  him  with  story  for  story,  joke  for  joke,  and 
when,  at  the  usual  hour  for  retiring  in  the  country,  where  folks 
are  very  apt  to  go  to  bed  with  the  fowls,  the  worthy  dame  in 
timated  to  Vernon  that  his  bed  was  ready  whenever  he  wished 
"  to  lie  down ;"  her  spouse  blazed  out  like  a  splinter  of  fat  light- 
wood —  bade  her  begone  and  not  send  the  young  man  to  bed 
at  dark,  to  tumble  about  half  the  night  in  sleeplessness  and 
st  apor. 

"  That's  the  way,  Harry ;  and  by  the  Lord  Harry,  it's  a 
ironstrous  vexing  way  my  wife  has  got.  She  goes  to  bed  at 
dxrk,  you  see ;  she's  kept  up  a  little  longer  to-night  than's  cus- 
t*  mary  with  her ;  and  before  day-peep  she's  a-stirring,  and 
•  Bossing,  and  a-calling  up  the  niggers.  Now,  you  see,  I  jan'l 


RETURN    OF   THE    PRODIGAL.  27 

sleep  soon  o*  nights  for  the  life  of  me.  I  never  could  ever  since 
I  was  a  lad  driving  my  pack-horses  over  the  mountains.  'Twas 
then  I  got  a  sort  o*  habit  of  sitting  up  late.  When  we'd  come 
to  a  running  water,  or  a  spring,  or  some  such  fine  place  for  a 
camp,  why  we'd  drive  stakes,  cut  bushes,  make  tents,  and  fasten 
our  horses.  Then  we'd  feed  'em,  git  up  a  fire,  and  set  to  pre 
paring  our  own  feed.  Well,  we'd  have  to  do  all  this  mighty 
slyly,  I  tell  you,  for  fear  of  the  Indians.  We'd  gti,  away  from 
the  main  track,  hide  our  horses  pretty  deep  in  the  small  woods, 
and  put  our  fire  in  a  sort  of  hollow,  so  that  nobody  could  see 
the  blaze.  Then  we'd  git  round  it,  put  down  a  hoe  and  a  grid 
dle,  bake  the  biscuit  and  broil  the  venison.  Ah  !  Vcrnon,  it 
was  mighty  sweet  eating  in  that  fashion.  There's  no  moal  I 
ever  ate  that  come  up  to  them.  And  as  we'd  eat,  we'd  talk 
about  what  happened  to  this  one,  and  what  happened  to  that ; 
and  how  many  scares  and  dangers  we'd  had ;  and  then  we'd 
steal  off,  taking  turns  at  that  business,  to  look  after  the  horses, 
and  up  and  down  the  road,  to  see  if  all  was  right.  And  so  we'd 
pass  the  night,  Mr.  Vernon  ;  and  in  the  morning,  betimes,  we'd 
brush  up  and  gear  the  animals,  and  put  on  our  packs,  and  be 
ready  for  a  start  by  dawn ;  and  many's  the  time,  Vernon,  my 
boy,  in  them  days,  that  I've  taken  '  Sweetlips,'  that  ugly  long- 
shanked  rifle  you  see  there  in  the  corner,  and  dropped  a  turkey 
from  his  roost  in  the  tree  jist  over  the  horses,  so  fat  that  his 
breast-bone  split  open  by  the  time  he  thumped  the  ground. 
Ah  !  them  days,  Mr.  Vernon,  them  blessed  days,  with  all  their 
troubles,  and  all  their  dangers,  I'd  give  all  I'm  worth,  or  ever 
hope  to  be  worth,  if  they  only  were  to  go  over  again.  But  it's 
no  use  pining  for  what  can't  be  got.  We  can't  always  be 
young,  Mr.  Vernon,  and  if  we  could,  pack-horses  are  gone  out 
of  use,  and  there's  no  Indians  to  make  us  lie  snug  and  sus 
picious,  telling  stories  that  helped  to  frighten  us  the  more. 
The  Ohoctaws  will  soon  be  gone,  and  the  Cherokees  and  Creeks, 
I  s'pose,  though  they're  something  farther  off,  and  I  don't  know 
so  much  about  them.  You  can  tell  though,  Mr.  Vernou,  seeing 
you're  jist  from  Mobile." 

Horsey,  with  an  inevitable  tendency,  had  recurred  to  his  old 
practice.     The  youth  replied  good-humoredly  :  — 

"I  haven't  seen   Mobile  for  months.  Mr.  Horsey;    but  yotr 


28  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

forget,  it  is  my  turn  to  question  now,  and  lest  you  should  start 
off,  and  throw  me  out  again,  I  will  begin  at  once.  Have  you 
had  many  visitors  in  Raymond  —  many  strangers,  I  mean,  until 
ihis  time,  within  the  last  two  weeks?" 

"  Psha,  Harry  Vernon,  say  what  yon  want  in  plain  terms. 
Is  it  a  man,  or  a  woman,  you're  in  chase  of?  It's  a  man,  I 
reckon ;  for  Ben  Carter  an't  the  chap  to  encourage  young  law 
yers  to  be  running  about  the  country  after  women.  Am  I  right 
iii  my  guess,  Vernon  ?" 

"  Suppose  I  tell  you,  then,  a  woman?" 

"  Well,  I've  nothing  to  say  ;  but  I  hardly  think  it.  Are  you 
!Ure  it's  a  woman,  now  1" 

"  Nay,  there's  no  certainty  about  it.  A  small  man  in  woman's 
clothes,  might  very  easily  pass  himself  off  for  one,"  said  Vernon, 
with  an  air  of  musing. 

"  Yes,  nothing  very  strange  in  that,  if  he  had  to  make  a  run 
for  it,  and  had  hope  of  outdoing  his  enemy's  head  sooner  than 
his  heels.  Your  chap  has  no  such  hope,  I  reckon,  Mr.  Vernon." 

"  It  may  be  not ;  but  man  or  woman,  Mr.  Horsey,  have  you 
had  any  strangers  in  the  village  lately  ?" 

"  Well,  I'm  the  very  last  person  in  Raymond  to  see  stran 
gers,  unless  they  come  to  me.  I  ha'n't  walked  out  of  the  house 
for  the  last  five  weeks,  and  jist  make  out  to  hobble  up  to  bed, 
when  it's  time  to  lie  down.  There's  my  wife,  now  —  she  can 
tell  you  more  than  I.  She  sees  everything  and  everybody,  I 
think,  that  comes  into  the  village ;  I  don't  know  but  she  sees 
whoever  goes  out  of  it.  She's  a  most  curious  woman  —  my 
wife  —  likes  to  pry  into  everybody's  business,  and  know  all 
about  them,  but  she  means  no  harm;  good  woman  —  she's  fast 
asleep  now." 

A  hearty  laugh  of  Vernon  followed  these  praises  of  the  wife, 
which  she  was  no  longer  in  a  condition  to  hear ;  and  drawing 
Higher  to  his  companion,  he  renewed  his  inquiries,  though  with 
a  slight  change  of  topic. 

"  Your  wounded  limb  disables  you  from  seeing  much  of  the 
world  at  present,  Mr.  Horsey,  but  it  has  not  always  disabled 
you,  and  there  are  some  parts  of  it  which  I  know  you  have 
Been,  about  which  I  would  like  to  obtain  some  information— 
the  '  Choctaw  purchase'  for  example." 


BETURN   OP   THE   PRODIGAL.  29 

"How  do  you  know  I've  been  in  the  ' nation' t"  demanded 
Horsey  with  some  gravity. 

"  You  told  me  so  yourself." 

"  The  d — 1  I  did  !  Can  it  be  possible  !  Well,  it  is  strange 
how  difficult  it  is,  when  a  man's  growing  old,  for  him  to  keep 
his  own  secrets.  Out  he  pops  with  everything  he  knows,  and 
with  the  help  of  a  long  tongue,  he  will  empty  the  longest  head. 
Are  you  sure  I  told  you  I  had  been  in  the  'nation'  Mr.  Vernon  ?" 

"  I  think  so,  sir." 

"  You  are  not  certain,  then.  It  is  very  probable  you  are 
mistaken,  sir.  I  should  wish  to  think  so,  for  I  look  upon  it  as 
one  of  the  last  signs  of  dotage  when  a  man  can't  keep  hie 
secrets." 

"  But  this  is  no  secret,  surely.  Can  there  be  any  harm  in 
stating  so  simple  a  fact,"  demanded  the  youth,  with  curiosity 
mingled  with  amusement  to  discover  in  a  man  of  so  much  good 
practical  sense,  an  apprehension  so  ridiculous. 

"  So  simple  a  fact  has  hung  a  man  before  to-day,  as  your  law 
books  should  have  told  you.  Not  that  I  fear  to  be  hung  for 
anything  I've  done,  whether  among  Creeks,  Cherokees,  or 
Choctaws.  I've  had  something  to  do  with  all  of  them  in  my 
time,  and  can  show  some  marks  of  my  acquaintance  with  the 
red  rascals;  but  then  there's  no  sort  of'  need  to  tell  everything 
a  man  knows,  even  when  it  does  him  no  harm  to  tell  it ;  and 
when  a  man's  brains  become  like  a  bottle  of  sassafras  beer, 
ready  to  boil  over  when  a  little  warm,  I  think  he  may  as  well 
cast  up  his  accounts,  and  get  his  coffin  made.  But,  sir,  I  have 
been  in  the  '  purchase'  and  maybe  can  tell  you  what  you  want 
to  know." 

"  To  what  portions  do  the  people  go  who  settle  there  now  ? 
Which  are  the  portions  most  in  demand  ?" 

"  Oh,  there's  a  sprinkling  of  our  people  everywhere,  there's 
no  stopping  them  when  they  begin.  When  you  think  you've 
got  to  the  eend  of  the  settlements,  there's  still  some  farther  on ; 
and  the  business  of  the  squatter  always  carries  him  over  the 
line  of  the  old  settlements.  But  the  quiet  folks  that  have  got 
something  to  go  upon  and  something  to  lose,  they  stick  a  little 
behind.  It  does  seem  to  me,  that,  if  it's  them  you're  asking 
for,  you'll  find  a  smart  chance  of  them  between  the  Yazoo  and 


30  BORDER    BEAGLE8. 

the  Big  Black,  mostly  along  the  edges  of  the  Big  Black,  and 
not  often  west  of  the  Yazoo.  A  heap  of  little  towns  are  grow 
ing  up  along  the  Black.  I  could  name  to  you  a  dozen,  but  it'i 
no  more  use  naming  little  towns  than  little  chickens,  there's  so 
many  of  them,  and  they  all  look  so  much  alike." 

"  And  the  gamblers,  Mr.  Horsey,  where  do  they  keep  1" 

"  Nowhere  in  particular,  and  that's  the  same  as  saying  every 
where.  But  —  I  needn't  ask  you,  seeing  you're  Ben  Carter's 
friend  —  I  was  going  to  say  I  hope  you  wasn't  looking  after 
company  among  them." 

"  No,  no  but  they  are  numerous?"  demanded  the  youth  with 
interest. 

*  As  peas  in  a  fair  season." 

•'  They  are  audacious,  too  ?" 

"  D — d  infernal  impudent,  if  you  let  them.  If  you  go  up 
in  those  parts  it's  my  advice  to  you  to  keep  finger  on  trigger 
and  use  your  pistol  at  a  word.  It's  a'most  always  the  quickest 
hand  that  gets  off  with  fewest  scratches,  and  to  stand  palaver 
ing  with  a  scoundrel,  that  you  know  to  be  a  scoundrel,  about 
what's  right,  and  what's  not  right,  is,  to  my  way  of  thinking, 
little  better  than  begging  an  ass  not  to  kick  you,  while  you 
make  a  slow  journey  under  his  heels." 

"  But  you're  not  always  sure  that  it  is  a  scoundrel — " 

"  Sure  as  a  gun ;  there's  no  chance  of  a  mistake  if  you  keep 
your  senses  about  you.  But  that's  the  trouble.  It's  how  to 
keep  your  senses  about  you,  Harry  Vernon,  that's  the  great 
est  question.  Now,  I'm  clear  to  say,  that  it's  only  by  getting 
drunk,  being  put  in  a  passion,  or  having  soft  soap  poured  down 
their  backs,  that  men  lose  their  senses,  and  afterward  lose  every 
thing  beside.  If  they  wouldn't  listen  to  smooth  words  from 
every  stranger  they  meet ;  if  they  wouldn't  stop  to  hug  the 
whiskey  bottle,  instead  of  taking  a  quiet  kiss  and  walking  on ; 
if  they  wouldn't  get  into  a  passion  about  every  fool  speech 
they  hear,  then  I'm  clear,  they'd  never  get  cheated  out  of  their 
money,  and  knocked  on  the  head,  like  a  blind  puppy  in  a  dark 
night.  Now,  Harry,  you  see  the  danger  before  you.  So  long 
as  a  man  keeps  his  senses,  there's  not  so  many  dangers  in  life, 
and  they  may  be  all  got  over  by  a  quick  head  and  bold  heart 
But  it  won't  do  to  beliove  in  sweet-spoken  strangers,  and  it 


RETURN   OP  THE   PRODIGAL.  31 

won't  do  to  quarrel  about  a  fool  jest,  and  it  won't  do  to  get 
drunk.  I  wouldn't  advise  a  lad  to  go  up  into  the  Yazoo,  now, 
while  it's  unsettled,  as  I  may  say,  and  none  but  scatterers  about : 
but  if  you  must  go,  mind  your  own  business,  make  no  more 
friends  than  you  can  help,  and  keep  sober  as  a  judge.  Come, 
sir,  you've  been  talking  long  enough,  let's  have  a  toddy." 

"Thank  you — no  more,  Mr.  Horsey;  and  let  me  correct 
your  errors  as  we  proceed.  It  is  you  and  not  I  who  have  been 
doing  the  talking  for  the  last  half  hour ;  and  to  say  truth,  I  am 
so  well  pleased  with  your  eloquence,  that  I'm  for  having  more 
of  it." 

"  No  gammon,  my  lad,  none  of  that.  But  I'm  willing  to  tell 
you  all  I  know,  so  long  as  you  don't  ask  for  it  all.  What's 
next?" 

"  What  officers  of  the  law  may  be  found  in  those  parts,  in  the 
event  of  my  being  in  want  of  them  ?" 

"  Lord  keep  you  from  law  officers  in  your  own  case,  my  lad, 
though  as  a  lawyer,  it's  like  enough,  you'll  be  making  them 
toil  hard  enough  in  the  business  of  other  people.  But  what 
makes  you  think  of  them  —  do  you  calculate  on  any  trouble?" 

"  Nay,  that  matters  not,  my  friend.  Should  I  have  any 
trouble,  which  a  man  of  the  world,  who  lives  in  the  world,  must 
always  look  for,  I  should  like  to  know  in  how  much  I  may  de 
pend  upon  the  countenance  and  protection  of  the  law  in  the 
places  to  which  I'm  going." 

f>  "  Depend  upon  a  hickory  sapling  and  your  own  teeth  rather 
Depend  upon  steel  and  bullet,  Harry  Vernon,  when  you're  on 
the  Yazoo.  What  the  d — 1  would  a  man  expect  to  find  out, 
away  on  the  very  outskairts,  as  I  may  call  it,  of  civilization  I 
Would  you  have  gentlemen  and  Christians  in  a  part  of  the  world 
where  there's  no  timber  cut,  no  lands  cleared,  no  houses  built, 
nothing  done,  but  what's  done  by  the  squatters  and  that  sort 
of  people  ?  No,  no  ;  your  only  chance  is  a  keen  eye,  a  quick 
hand,  and  a  steady  head.  Trust  to  these  in  the  Yazoo ;  there 
are  few  better  friendp  anywhere." 

"  The  counsel  of  one  who  has  certainly  done  more  by  their 
help  than  most  men,"  responded  Vernon,  with  a  compliment 
that  was  not  displeasing  to  the  veteran,  ana  sbowed  a  degree 
of  intimacy  with  his  history  on  tne  part  oi  his  guest)  which 


32  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

proved  him  to  have  been  no  inattentive  auditor  of  himself  and 
of  his  friend  Carter ;  "  but,"  continued  the  youth,  "  what  can 
you  tell  me  of  the  '  Braxley  settlement'  ?" 

"Not  a  syllable  —  I  know  nothing  good  of  it,  however; 
though  I  couldn't  say,  more  than  from  general  report,  anything 
bad  agin  it." 

"What  of    Ford's  camp' 1" 

"  Nothing." 

"  Georgeville  ?" 

"  That's  sprung  up  into  a  village  since  my  day.  I  believe 
it's  a  poor  affair :  but  two  or  three  stores  or  thereabouts.  1 
never  saw  the  place  but  once,  and  then  there  was  but  one ;  I 
didn't  stay  in  that  longer  than  to  take  a  sup  of  whiskey.  If 
there's  nothing  better  in  it  than  the  whiskey,  don't  go  there. 
It's  a  place  to  shun,  Mr.  Vernon." 

"  What  of  Lexington  ?" 

"  Don't  know  the  place." 

"  Squab  Meadow  ?" 

"  Never  heard  of  it." 

"  There's  a  little  village  called  Lucchesa,  that  lies  somewhere 
upon  Green  Briar  Creek  in  Carroll  county.  Do  you  know 
anything  about  that  ?  it's  a  new  village." 

"  New  to  me,  yet  1  think  I  have  heard  the  name ;  there  are 
several  little  villages  grown  up  since  I've  been  in  those  parts, 
and,  for  that  matter,  they  grow  up  every  day.  I  know  the 
country  well  enough,  but,  bless  your  soul,  Mr.  Harry  Vernon, 
it's  no  sign  of  ignorance  in  Massissippi,  not  to  know  the  towns 
by  their  names.  We  can't  find  names  for  half  of  'em." 

This  was  said  with  some  signs  of  impatience,  and  the  youth, 
though  still  seemingly  desirous  of  pressing  for  information  which 
was  yet  desirable  to  obtain,  was  compelled  to  rest  contented 
with  the  imperfect  statistics  already  gleaned,  which,  perhaps, 
no  continued  examination  of  the  old  man  would  have  rendered 
more  complete. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  wearied  and  worried  you,  Mr.  Horsey, 
without  much  help  to  myself.  What  I  get  from  you  is  to  the 
*iil  as  satisfactory  as  the  comparisons  of  that  categorical  per- 
eoiiage,  Captain  Fluellen;  'There  is,'  says  he,  'a  river  in 
Macedon,  and  there  is  also,  moreover,  a  river  at  Monmouth,'  &c.' 


RETURN    OP   THE    PRODIGAL.  8 

The  youth  gave  in  full  the  passage  which  has  been  prefij-ed 
as  an  epigraph  to  this  idle  chapter,  and  which  we  care  not  to 
repeat  again.  Portions  of  the  quotation,  however;  and  the  ui- 
thority  referred  to,  seemed  to  disquiet  our  landlord. 

"  Fluellen,"  said  he  ;  "  where  was  he  captain  ?  There's  Cap 
tain  Feuelon,  I  know,  that  heads  the  '  Buck  Swamp  Rangers,' 
and  that's  the  nearest  name  to  it,  I  can  think  of.  I  know  Fen- 
elon,  and  a  mighty  clever  fellow  he  is ;  a  little  too  fond  of  ilie 
girls  perhaps ;  but  that  only  hurts  himself.  It  isn't  him,  you 
mean." 

"  No,  no  —  Fluellen  is  a  captain  far  more  famous,  I  thfnk, 
than  Fenelon  will  ever  become.  He  is  one  of  the  honored 
names  of  Shakspere  —  the  world  renowned — " 

"That  d — d  player-man!"  cried  the  impatient  landlord,  in 
terrupting  the  eulogy  which  our  hero  had  begun,  of  the  merits 
of  the  divine  bard.  "  Look  you,  Mr.  Vernon,  if  you  want  *.hal 
we  should  keep  friends,  and  part  friends,  say  no  more  of  rtiat 
player-fellow  and  his  cursed  books ;  don't  I  beg  you." 

The  youth  was  silent  from  wonder  for  a  few  moments,  tc  be 
hold  such  an  earnest  countenance  as  the  speaker  wore  whih  he 
uttered  this  serious  remonstrance.  When  he  recovered  breath 
it  was  to  expostulate. 

"  In  the  name  of  wonder,  and  all  the  wonders,  Mr.  Honey, 
but  how  is  this  ?  How  is  it  that  you  are  so  hostile  to  a  writer 
whom  all  the  world  joins  to  honor  and  applaud?" 

"The  world,  Mr.  Vernon,  may  honor  as  it  pleases,  an  I  it 
frequently  gives  honor  where  very  little  is  due.  But  it's  the 
honor  which  the  world  gives  to  this  same  player-fellow,  wHch 
has  done  more  to  make  me  an  unhappy  man,  than  anything  in 
the  world  beside." 

The  wonder  of  the  youth  increased,  and  a  single  word  <  -m 
veyed  his  farther  interrogation  :  — 

"  How  t" 

"  I  have  a  son,  Mr.  Vernon ;  you  haven't  seen  him  in  wy 
house ;  nor,  till  this  minute,  have  you  heard  his  name  from  ray 
lips ;  nor,  perhaps,  from  the  lips  of  Ben  Carter,  though  rou 
may  have  got  a  good  deal  out  of  him.  Well,  sir,  this  son  •>£ 
mine,  got  in  with  some  of  these  player  fellows  at  Mobile  or  ( Tt- 
leans,  and  they  carried  him  to  their  blasted  stage-houses,  whf  ? 

I* 


84  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

he  got  possession  of  these  Shakspere  books,  and  he's  nevei 
been  worth  a  picayune  since  that  day.  He  took  up  with  the 
stage-fellows,  got  to  making  a  d — d  fool  of  himself  before  the 
Mobile  people,  and  had  the  impudence  to  send  me  a  paper,  a 
printed  paper,  with  a  great  heading,  and  his  name  among  the 
rest  to  play  some  pieces  out  of  Shakspere.  Sure  enough,  that 
very  time  my  neighbor  here,  Major  Mandrake,  that  keeps  one 
of  the  taverns,  being  down  on  a  visit  to  Mobile,  saw  Tom  Hor 
sey,  with  his  own  eyes,  come  out  in  front  of  the  whole  people, 
with  a  gold  crown  upon  his  head,  and  covered  with  spangles, 
and  dressed  up,  in  a  most  ridiculous  way  beside,  jist  for  another 
chap,  who  come  out  afterward,  to  stick  him  with  a  sword.  And 
there  he  rolled  about  over  the  floor,  until  he  died,  and  the  peo 
ple  shouted  and  clapped  their  hands,  as  if  he  had  done  some 
great  thing,  and  it  was  jist  that  d — d  stupid  shouting  and  clap 
ping,  that  led  the  fellow  to  make  such  a  bloody  fool  of  himself. 
But  mind  you,  I  don't  mean  to  say  that  he  died  in  airnest  —  it 
was  all  pretence  —  all  make  b'lieve ;  but,  by  the  Eternal,  Mr 
Vernon,  I'd  rather  a  thousand  times  he  had  died  in  raal  airnest, 
in  a  fair  fight,  than  to  have  fallen  into  such  a  folly,  and  brought 
disgrace  upon  his  family." 

A  playful  commentary  upon  this  speech  rose  to  the  lips  of 
Vernon,  as  the  old  man  concluded ;  but  the  youth  saw  that  the 
grief  was  too  serious  and  sacred,  to  suffer  any  light  or  irrever 
ential  remark.  He  contented  himself  with  inquiring  into  the 
fate  of  a  lad  in  whom  he  begun  to  take  some  interest,  the  ra 
ther,  perhaps,  because  he  saw  the  matter  in  a  less  severe  light 
than  the  father,  and  possibly  because  he  thought  that  the  back 
woods  boy,  wanting  in  all  the  advantages  of  education  and  city 
life,  who  could  relish  Shakspere  to  so  great  a  degree,  must  be 
of  something  more  than  ordinary  metal. 

"  And  where  is  your  son  now,  Mr.  Horsey  ?" 
"  The  saints  know  best,  Mr.  Vernon.     Tom  Horsey  has  not 
darkened  these  doors  since  March  gone  was  a  year."      * 
"  But  you  hear  from  him  ?" 

"Ay,  sir,  and  of  him.  I  hear  from  him  when  he  wants 
money,  and  of  him  when  he  has  it.-  He  makes  me  hear  when 
he's  out,  and  makes  everybody  else  hear  when  his  pockets  are 
full.  The  misfortune  is,  that  this  Shakspere  fellow  never  comes 


RETUiitt    OF   THE    PRODIGAL.  36 

alone.  He  brings  with  him  late  hours  and  strong  drink,  and 
damned  bad  company,  Mr.  Vernon;  and  what  with  him  and 
them,  Tom  Horsey  is  in  the  broad  road  to  destruction." 

"  But  do  you  provide  him  with  money  when  he  demands  it 
for  such  indulgences." 

"  Fill  your  glass,  Vernon ;  let  us  drink,  and  say  no  more. 
I'm  a  surly,  crabbed  sort  of  creature ;  they  will  all  tell  you  so  ; 
and  yet,  they  all  wonder,  and  I  wonder  at  it  myself,  that  I  have 
so  little  strength  to  do  the  things  that  I  resolve  upon.  The 
boy's  my  only  boy,  bad  as  he  is,  Harry  Vernon ;  and  he  gets 
more  money  from  me  than  I  ought  to  give  him.  But,  what's 
that  ?  Did  you  hear  nothing,  Mr.  Vernon  ?  —  no  voices  —  none 
— just  below  the  window  1" 

The  old  man  trembled  with  sudden  agitation,  while  bending 
forward  to  listen,  as  indistinct  accents  fell  upon  his  own  and 
the  ears  of  his  guest. 

In  another  instant,  the  room  *ang  with  a  loud  burst  of  de 
clamation  from  without,  in  which  Vernon  detected  some  lines 
from  the  bard  whom  the  old  man  had  so  terribly  denounced, 
but  which  now  seemed  to  awaken  in  his  mind  any  other  than 
hostile  feelings.  Meanwhile  the  voice  proceeded,  and  the  pas 
sages  spoken  seemed  not  inappropriate;  and,  perhaps,  were 
chosen  from  their  partial  fitness,  to  those  relations  between 
father  and  son,  which  had  formed  the  subject  of  the  previous  con 
versation.  The  passage  was  from  the  speech  of  Bolingbroke, 
third  scene,  fifth  act,  of  Richard  the  Second :  — 

"Can  no  man  tell  of  my  unthrifty  eont 
Tis  full  three  months  since  I  did  see  him  last: 
If  any  plague  hang  over  us,  'tis  he. 
I  would  to  heaven,  my  lords,  he  might  be  found 
Inquire  at  London,  'mongst  the  taverns  there, 
For  there,  they  say,  he  daily  doth  frequent, 
With  unrestrained,  loose  companions,"  <fec. 

The  eye  of  the  father  caught  the  glance  of  his  guest  earnestly 
fixed  upon  him,  and  in  that  instant  he  recovered  his  composure. 

"  Now,  out  upon  the  scrub  !  he  comes  at  last,  with  his  player- 
verses  in  his  mouth — " 

"Ay;  but  how  truly  do  they  suit,  Mr  Horsey!"  was  tb« 
repl}  of  Vernon. 


86  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  well  enough  ;  but  will  they  cure  the  mischief 
that  they  tell  of?  No,  sir ;  this  graceless  rascal  thinks  it  hand 
some  to  swagger  with  a  belly  full  of  whiskey,  and  a  brain  full 
of  Shakspere,  at  the  lowest  tavern  in  the  city  of  New  Orleans. 
By  the  Lord  Harry,  but  he  comes  not  in  my  door!" 

A  loud  knocking  from  without  answered  this  resolve;  and, 
following  the  glance  of  the  father's  eye,  Vernon  rose  quietly 
and  opened  the  door  to  the  son. 


CHAPTER   III. 

FATHER    AND   SON. 

"This  fellow  I  remember 

Since  once  he  play'd  a  farmer's  eldest  son ; 

Twas  where  you  woo^u  the  gentlewoman  so  well; 

I  have  forgot  your  nnme  ;  but  sure  that  part 

Was  aptly  fitted,  and  naturally  performed." — SHAKSFESK. 

THE  prodigal  waited  for  no  invitation  to  enter,  but  bounced 
\n,  the  moment  the  door  was  opened.  Seeing  the  stranger,  he 
stopped  short  for  an  instant,  his  deportment  bearing  equal  marks 
of  confident  assurance,  and  a  reasonable  consciousness  of  his 
own  demerits.  The  habits  of  the  player-men,  however,  got  the 
better  of  his  misgivings,  and,  without  yielding  any  farther  no 
tice  to  Vernon,  after  the  first  glance,  he  advanced  towaii  the 
father,  prefacing  his  movement  with  a  hearty  salutation, 
of  somewhat  rowdy  fashion,  which  made  the  old  man  wince 
in  his  seat,  at  the  gross  disregard  of  his  dignity  which  it  be 
trayed. 

"  Ha,  dad  !  there  you  are,  prime  and  hearty,  as  though  yon 
never  had  a  son,  to  '  bring  you  cares  for  inconsiderate  youth,' — 
and  how's  the  old  lady,  '  our  venerable  mother,  keeps  she  well  V 
gone  to  bed,  I  reckon,  and  fast;  so  I  take  it  for  granted  she's 
as  she  should  be,  and  you,  sir,  you  and — " 

Here  his  eyes  wandered  to  the  seat  which  Vernon  had  re- 
occupied. 

''Puppy!"  exclaimed  the  father,  "can't  you  leave  off  youi 


PATH  Kit    AND    SON.  37 

cursed  player  nonsense,  Tom  Horsey,  when  you're  in  a  gentle 
man's  presence.  That,  sir,  is  my  friend,  Mr.  Vernon,  Mr.  Harry 
Vernon,  of  Natchez,  or  New  Orleans,  or  elsewhere." 

"  Sir,  Mr.  Vernon.  of  elsewhere.  I  am  glad  to  know  you. 
'  If  I  mistake  not,  tliou  art  Harry  Monmouth,' "  was  the  prompt 
address  of  the  actor,  extending  his  right  hand,  with  an  air  of 
princely  condescension. 

"Moninouth,  no  !"  cried  the  more  literal  father;  "Vernon,  ] 
said,  Tom  Horsey  —  Mr.  Harry  Vernon." 

"The  same  —  a  good  name,  I  think,  sir,  a  very  good  name, 
and  I'm  glad  to  know  you.  Mr.  Vernon,  as  I  said  before, 
'  there's  matter  in  this ;'  and,  some  allowances  must  be  made 
for  the  prejudices  of  age,  and  a  hard  school,  sir,  against  the 
drama.  It  is  only  in  the  presence  of  gentlemen,  sir," — to  his 
father — "  let  me  tell  you,  that  players  should  speak.  The  very 
element  they  live  in,  sir,  is  the  applause  of  the  gentle  and 
the  wise  —  their  pursuits  are  'caviare  to  the  general;'  and  let 
me  tell  you,  sir,  that  you  risk  not  a  little  when  you  give  way 
to  this  harsh  and  most  unjust  manner  of  speech,  in  respect  to  a 
profession,  whose  ill  report  while  you  live,  it  is  said,  will  do 
you  more  harm  than  a  bad  epitaph  when  you  die.  You  will 
find  the  passage  in  Hamlet  —  for  the  rest,  sir  —  have  you  any 
thing  to  drink  ?" 

This  speech  was  pretty  evenly  divided  between  the  father 
and  his  guest.  When  it  was  concluded,  he  turned  to  the  little 
table  that  stood  between  the  elder  Horsey  and  Vernon,  filled  a 
glass  for  himself,  and  drawing  a  chair  from  the  corner  of  the 
apartment,  placed  himself,  with  a  show  of  sang  froid,  which 
was  not  altogether  felt,  directly  beside  the  father.  The  old 
man  could  no  longer  restrain  his  indignation. 

"You  d — d  conceited  squab,  where  have  you  been  these 
sight  months  ?  Put  down  'your  glass,  sir,  until  you  answer  me." 

'  Diy  throats  must  needs  make  short  speeches,  sir — I  have 
been  at  school." 

"Do  not  mock  me,  Tom  Horsey !  —  don't  go  too  far,  boy,  in 
playing  your  d— d  theatre  stuff  on  me.  1  can't  bear  it  much 
longer  —  you'll  put  me  in  a  rousing  passion." 

"We'll  have  a  rouse  to-night,  sir  —  Mr.  Vernon,  ' the  king 
drinks  to  Hamlet.'  Don't  think,  sir,"  addressing  his  father. 


88  BORDER  BEAGLES. 

"  don't  think,  I  shall  forget  you,  dad,  but  your  glass  remains 
unfilled.  Shall  I  help  you  ?" 

"  Help  yourself  and  be  d — d.  Answer  my  question.  Where 
have  you  been  these  eight  months  ?" 

"  Egad,  sir,  that's  the  most  puzzling  of  all  questions,  and  the 
most  correct  answer  that  I  can  make  you  is  that  which  1  have 
made  already.  At  school,  sir!  In  the  great  school  of  the 
world,  sir,  I  have  been  acquiring  my  humanities  or  getting  rid 
of  them.  Don't  you  think  me  reasonably  improved  ?" 

"  What  have  you  done  with  the  money  I  sent  you  ?" 

"  Paid  my  schooling  with  it,  sir." 

"  That  is  to  say,  you  drank  it  out  at  taverns  upon  your  roar 
ing  companions,  your  drunken  actors,  your  bully  gamblers,  and 
all  that  strange  sort  of  cattle  that  you  herd  with  in  Orleans." 

"  Alas !  my  father,  revile  not  thus.  Wherefore  will  you 
speak  of  things  which  you  know  not.  Have  more  charity,  I 
pray  you.  As  for  the  poor  sums  of  money  which  you  sent  me, 
they  were  as  nothing  to  the  good  which  they  procured  me. 
They  brought  me  to  a  knowledge  of  the  fine  generous  spirits, 
who  are  as  much  above  the  dirty  wants  and  slavish  necessities 
of  common  clay,  as  the  divine  Shakspere  is  beyond  all  the  thou 
sand  priests  and  pretenders  that  officiate  at  the  altar  of  the 
muse.  Had  you  sent  me  ten  times  the  sums  you  speak  of,  I 
had  freely  shared  them  all  with  the  noble  fellows  whom  your 
parsimony  has  chiefly  compelled  me  to  leave." 

"  Ay,  and  where  would  their  generosity  have  carried  you, 
you  ridiculous  spendthrift.  To  the  calaboose,  to  the  calaboose, 
you  rascal.  If  it  has  not  already  carried  you  there.  Pitiful 
sums  indeed!  —  but  you  sha'n't  impose  on  Mr.  Vernon.  You 
shall  bay  what  these  pitiful  sums  are ;  you  shall  tell  him  what 
money  I  sent  you,  and  let  him  say  whether  I  have  not  been 
almost  as  great  a  spendthrift  as  yoursblf." 

"No  doubt,  no  doubt  —  I  make  no  question,  dad,  but  that 
your  extravagance  has  always  exceeded  mine.  I  am  but  a  chip 
—  a  small  chip  of  the  old  block;  and — " 

"  Why,  you  impudent  rascal,  my  spendings  have  been  alto 
gether  on  you.  If  I  have  to  reproach  myself  with  any  extrav 
agance  at  all,  it  is  only  in  having  given  you  the  means  to  make 
a  fool  of  yourself." 


FATHER    AND   SON.  3P 

"'Wisely,  indeed,  and  worthily  bestowed*  —  you  do  not  re 
pent,  sir,  of  having  provided  for  my  subsistence  ?" 

"  I  have  done  more,  sir.  What  amount  did  I  send  you  by 
Bill  Perkins  1" 

"  Some  fifty  or  a  hundred  dollars,  as  I  think." 

"As  you  think!  as  you  think!  Tom  Horsey,  will  you  lie 
too  ?  Have  your  player-fellows  taught  you  this  among  theii 
other  accursed  lessons.  Speak,  are  you  in  earnest  ?" 

The  old  man's  voice  trembled,  and  passion  seemed  to  be  suc 
ceeded  in  his  choking  utterance  by  a  fear  that  falsehood  was  to 
be  included  among  the  other  profligacies  of  one  whom  his  own 
tenderness  had  rendered  somewhat  incorrigible.  Vernon 
watched  the  scene  with  curious  interest,  and  he  remarked  the 
sudden  flush  which  mounted  up  into  the  son's  cheeks  at  the  ac 
cusation,  as  if  conscious  innocence  revolted  within  him  at  the 
injustice.  Such  was  the  impression  of  the  spectator,  and  it  was 
confirmed  by  the  effect  which  it  seemed  to  produce  in  the  youth's 
tone  and  general  manner. 

"  You  are  a  little  too  hard  with  me,  sir,"  was  his  reply.  "  1 
admit  that  you  sent  me  some  money  by  Perkins." 

"Three  hundred,  not  fifty,  sir — not  fifty  or  a  hundred,  but 
three  hundred  dollars,  Tom  Horsey." 

"  Right,  sir ;  Perkins  brought  me  that  sum,  which  I  trust 
you  did  not  really  think  me  base  enough  to  deny.  When  I 
said  less  I  simply  meant  to  compute  it  by  the  time  it  lasted. 
It  was  the  very  sum  you  name,  sir,  but  it  might  just  as  well 
have  been  the  fifty  —  it  was  very  short-lived." 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  said  the  father,  glad  to  have  an  excuse  to 
forbear  reproach  and  harsh  language.  "  And  had  it  been  fifty 
times  as  much,  do  you  think  it  would  have  lasted  much  longer 
with  such  company  as  you  keep  ?  No,  sir,  they  would  have 
spent  my  gains  and  your  gettings,  and  counted  my  thousands 
as  you  have  learned  to  do  by  fifties  and  hundreds.  But  that's 
not  all.  You  got  money  from  my  factor  in  Orleans.  What 
sum  got  you  ?  for  to  this  day  I  have  never  learned." 

"  I  sent  you  two  thousand  dollars  by  Major  Mandrake." 

"I  got  it,  but  the  crop  sold  for  more,  sir — cotton  was 
selling  at  sixteen;  I  had  the  price  current  cf  the  week, 
and  have  it  now.  What  did  my  cotton  bring?  You  sent 


BORDER   BEAGLES, 
money  but  no  account  of  sales;  what   was  done  with 

r 

11  'Gad,  sir,  I  know  not,  unless  we  used  it  to  raase  snow  one 
night  at  Caldwell's  when  the  storm  gave  out.  I  remember,  we 
were  rather  short  of  snow." 

"Tom,  Tom,  don't  rouse  me  —  don't  put  me  in  a  passion. 
I'm  sick  —  I  can't  beat  it  easily;  and  besides,  I  don't  want  Mr. 
Harry  Vernon  to  see  what  a  d — d  fool  I  am  to  let  you  treat  me 
as  you  do.  What  did  you  get  from  my  factor  in  all  ?  let  me 
know  that.  You  sent  me  two  thousand  —  what  did  you  keep  ?" 

"  Well,  sir,  as  nearly  as  I  can  remember,  about  seven  hun 
dred—" 

"  Seven  hundred !" 

"  There  may  have  been  a  forty  or  fifty  tacked  on  to  it ;  but 
it  certainly  was  not  more  than  that.  Suppose  we  call  it  sever, 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  —  'the  very  head  and  front  of  my  of 
fending,  hath  this  extent,  no  more.'" 

"  And  enough  too,  in  God's  name,  to  ruin  any  man  that's  got 
so  little  to  go  upon  as  I,"  responded  the  father ;  "  but  there  is 
more,  Tom  Horsey  —  you  took  a  hundred  and  seventy  dollars 
with  you  when  you  went ;  }TOU  collected  ninety  dollars  from 
Michael  Hopper  for  so  many  bushels  of  corn  ;  and  what  have 
you  done  with  Martin  Groning's  note  for  sixty-seven  dollars? 
If  you  got  that,  it  makes — " 

"  But  I  Haven't  got  that,  dad.  Groning's  a  great  rascal ; 
'  there  must  be  lawings  ere  you  get  that  gold'  —  we  shall  have 
to  set  Master  Phang  upon  him,  dad,  before  he  settles." 

"  No,  let  him  go.  It's  but  a  poor  sixty-seven  dollars,  and  I 
shouldn't  miss  so  small  a  matter,  if  my  own  son  didn't  help  me 
to  the  loss  of  a  great  deal  more.  But  now  count  up,  count  up, 
Mr.  Vernon,  these  moneys,  as  I  call  them  out  to  you,  and  then 
say  whether  I'm  parsimonious,  or  whether  there's  a  spendthrift 
in  my  family,  that'll  let  out  at  a  thousand  mouths  what  his  fa 
ther  was  compelled  to  take  in  at  one." 

"  Nay,  don't  count  up,  I  beg  you,  dad,"  cried  the  profligate  ; 
"why  will  you  bother  Harry  Monmouth  with  these  'small 
chores.'  To  count  up  money  that  you  have  not,  is  to  impov 
erish  memory  most  cursedly.  The  very  thought  of  my  spend- 
ings  is  a  misery,  since  it  onlv  the  more  forcibly  reminds  me  of 


FATHER   AND   SON. 

the  little  that  is  left  to  spend.  Wherefore  have  I  left  my  com 
pany,  '  my  comates  in  exile,1  but  that  the  candle  was  at  the  last 
snuff — wherefore  have  I  trudged  homeward  '  on  weary  legs — '" 

"  Yen  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  walked  from  Orleans  here, 
Tom  Horsey  ?"  cried  the  father,  to  whom  the  last  fragment  of 
a  quotation  uttered  by  his  son  suggested  a  new  cause  of  appre 
hension. 

"  Not  all  the  way.  I  had  a  cast  in  a  steamboat  as  far  as 
Monticello,  and  a  fling  in  a  wagon  for  some  twelve  or  fourteen 
miles  above ;  but,  by  the  Lord  Harry,  the  widow's  mare  did 
the  rest." 

"  Why,  where's  your  horse  ?" 

"  Gone  —  gone  the  way  of  all  flesh." 

"  Dead  —  how  was  that  —  the  botts?" 

"  Ay,  botts  enough  to  take  off  a  dozen  horses.  The  sheriff 
suspected  I  was  out  of  money,  and  not  able  to  keep  him  any 
longer ;  and  so  relieved  me  of  the  charge." 

"  Seized  for  debt !"  exclaimed  the  father  aghast ;  "  a  colt  of 
my  own  raising — seized  for  debt !  —  eat  his  head  off  in  a  livery 
stable  !  —  ah,  Tom,  Tom  !  you'll  kill  me  yet !" 

"  At  the  suit  of  one  Stubbs,  a  tailor ;  a  fellow  that  helped  me 
lo  fit  up  my  wardrobe,  and  brought  suit  for  all  his  suits.  Thus 
was  I  nonsuited.  But  I  punished  the  scoundrel,  you  may  be 
sure.  I  basted  him  with  his  own  yard-stick  the  night  I  left 
Orleans,  till  there  wasn't  a  seam  in  his  carcass  that  couldn't 
count  stitches.  You  shall  hear  particulars  some  day,  Harry 
Monmouth  ;  a  devilish  good  story  —  but — " 

"  Look  you,  Tom,  this  gentleman's  name  is  Vernon,  and  not 
Monmouth.  None  of  your  tricks,  I  tell  you." 

"  Vernon,  is  it  ?  I  ask  pardon,  but  I  thought  it  was  Mon 
mouth —  Harry  Monmouth  — it  was  Harry  you  said — I'll  swear 
to  that." 

"You've  a  free  tongue  to  swear,  Tom  Horsey;  but  how 
would  you  like  an  oath  of  mine  to  cut  you  off  with  a  shilling, 
and  leave  you  to  the  miserable  life  you  have  so  miserably  begun. 
Answer  me  that,  sir :  what  would  you  think  of  such  an  oath  f 
wid  wouldn't  it  be  justly  deserVed,  Mr.  Vernon  ?" 

"  Nay,  father,  do  not  bother  Mr.  Vernon  any  more  in  thii 
aatter,  and  above  all  matters  eschew  the  sin  of  swearing. 


42  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

Oath-taking  is  a  bad  business,  and  unless  you  take  some  suck 
rash  oath  as  that  you  speak  of,  I  think  I  may  promise  you  with 
safety  to  do  nothing  again  rashly  as  long  as  I  live.  I  am  come 
home  to  be  a  sober  fellow,  follow  the  plough,  drive  the  wagon, 
bleed  horses,  and  cure  bacon.  In  short,  do  just  whatever  is 
needful  to  make  money,  and  keep  it  afterward." 

"  Can  you  keep  to  this  ?"  cried  the  delighted  father,  who  de 
sired  nothing  more  than  such  a  concession  on  the  part  of  his 
son,  as  should  savo  his  dignity,  and  obviate  the  necessity  of 
more  scolding. 

"  I  think  so  — I'll  try,  sir." 

"  Ah,  Tom,  for  awhile  only,  I'm  afraid.  You'll  be  reading 
in  the  newspaper  about  some  new  play-house  or  some  new 
actor,  and  then,  nothing  will  suit,  but  off  you  must  go  to  see  for 
yourself;  as  if  the  reading  of  it  wouldn't  do  as  well." 

"It  shall  —  it  shall  in  future,  dad.  Don't  be  afraid  of  me. 
I  think  I  shall  keep  my  promises  this  time,  for,  do  you  see, 
whatever  might  be  my  own  desires  to  go  to  Orleans,  the  drub 
bing  I  gave  the  tailor,  Stubbs,  will  stand  against  me  in  the 
black  books  of  the  law,  and  I  have  too  great  a  respect  for  that 
stately  dwelling,  the  calaboose,  to  risk  the  chances  of  admission. 
p-As  for  the  theatre  itself,  by  my  fears,  I  have  just  as  little  reason 
to  venture  near  it.  My  chance  is  all  up  with  the  American, 
and  my  hopes  with  Caldwell ;  but  for  that,  dad,  it  might  have 
been,  that  you  hadn't  seen  me  home  to-night." 

"  Well,  whatever  it  was,  I'm  glad  it  happened  so ;  but  you 
don't  mean,  Tom,  that  you  quarrelled  with  the  actors." 

"Ay,  with  the  very  chief  of  them — the  manager." 

"  Well,  the  stars  be  thanked,  I'm  a  great  deal  gladder  than  be 
fore.  There's  no  fear  of  making  up  the  matter,  Tom,  is  there  V 

"  But  little,  unless  you  lend  your  help." 

"God  forbid!  I  lend  my  help  !  —  I'd  burn  down  all  their 
establishments,  if  I  could.  But  how  T\as  it,  Tom — what  was 
the  quarrel  ?  You  didn't  lick  him,  too,  as  well  as  the  tailor  ?"' 

"  Egad,  no  !  The  boot  was  on  t'other  leg !  It  was  because 
I  didn't  lick  him,  that  we  quarrelled;  it  was,  by  my  soul !" 

"  Come,  come,  Tom,  don't,  now3;  none  of  your  d — d  nonsense. 
We  know  it's  all  gammon  that !  No  man.  would  quarrel  with 
another  because  he  didn't  lick  hira." 


FATHER   AND   SON.  43 

"True  as  gospel,  dad.  profeminiinlTy  speaking.  An  excellrut 
adventure,  by  the  way,  Mr.  Vernon,  and  1  must  tell  it.  Dad, 
fill  your  glass!  —  an  excellent  joke  —  fill,  Mr.  Vernon!  You 
shall  hear  how  I  can c,  over  the  manager  —  how  I  struck  him, 
even  when  'soaring  in  his  pride  of  place.'" 

"  1  thought  you  said  you  didn't  strike  him,  Tom  ?"  demanded 
the  matter-of-fact  father. 

"  You  shall  hear,  sir.  Understand,  you  are  at  the  American 
Theatre  in  New  Orleans,  Caldwell,  manager;  and  your  humble 
servant  doing  third  and  fourth-rate  characters  at  tenth-rate 
prices.  Ten  dollars  a  week  is  scarcely  enough  for  gentlemen 
of  my  cloth  ;  and  just  at  this  time  Stubbs  was  writing  to  me  in 
the  very  language  of  Master  Shallow,  *  I  beseech  you,  Sir  John, 
let  me  have  five  hundred  of  my  thousand,'  in  other  words,  of 
less  classical  grace  —  'let  me  have  but  half  of  my  bill.'" 

"  Drop  the  theatre  talk,  Tom,"  whispered  the  father ;  "  drop 
it,  d — n  you,  if  you  can." 

"  It  was  necessary  to  remit,  to  raise  the  wind.  This  was  the 
difficulty.  I  had  got  rid  of.  the  seven  hundred,  and  the  three 
hundred,  and  the  other  odd  Itnndred ;  and  I  had  even  drawn 
the  week's  salary  in  advance.  I  had  the  horse,  it  is  true,  but 
the  colt  was  a  favorite  —  I  had  helped  to  raise  it;  and,  by  Ju 
piter,  I  had  much  sooner  have  parted  with  my  velvet  plush 
breeches,  than  with  Corporal." 

The  old  man  gave  an  approbatory  chuckle  as  this  show  of 
proper  feeling  escaped  his  son  in  his  narrative. 

"  But  you  should  have  gone  to  the  factors,  or  wrote  to  me  for 
the  money,  Tom,  and  redeemed  the  nag.  I'd  rather  than  twice 
his  value  that  you  had  not  lost  him." 

The  son  winked  to  Vernon,  as  he  replied  — 

"  Ah,  dad,  Stubbs  is  not  the  only  tailor  in  Orleans ;  and  one 
suit  is  not  all  that  a  poor  devil  actor  has  to  suffer  before  his 
wardrobe's  eomplete.  As  I  was  saying,  I  knew  of  no  present 
mode  of  raising  the  wind,  and  I  had  but  one  mode  left  me.  I 
went  to  the  manager,  implored  him  for  a  loan,  on  the  strength 
of  future  services.  He  denied  me  ;  '  but  was  I  to  be  denied  V 
You  shall  hear  how  I  fixed  Ifirn.  That  very  night  I  was  to 
play  Richmond  to  his  Richard.  The  manager  had  a  very 
•Grange  notion  that  he  was  a  tragedian,  and  was,  therefore 


44  BORDER  BEAGLES. 

continually  going  out-  of  his  element,  to  try  waters  which  were 
quite  beyond  his  depth.  He  did  well  enough  as  a  genteel 
comedian,  but  that  did  not  satisfy  his  ambition;  and  among 
those  who  knew  nothing  better,  he  did  monstrous  well.  I  re 
member  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  him  was  in  tragedy.  I  went 
to  Orleans,  dad,  if  you  remember,  with  uncle  Wat  Stevens,  and 
he  treated  me  to  the  show." 

"  Damn  him  for  it,"  was  the  fervent  ejaculation  of  the  father 
The  son  proceeded  without  heeding  the  interruption. 

"  Like  the  rest  of  the  gaping  countrymen  around,  and  the 
house  was  full  of  them,  I  thought  him  a  wonderful  man,  though 
I  soon  learned  other  things  when  I  looked  a  little  more  into  the 
matter.  But  the  opinion  of  the  manager  himself  underwent  no 
change.  He  was  still  ripe  for  tragedy  and  nothing  else,  and 
was  that  very  night,  when  Stubbs  sent  me  his  impudent  letter, 
to  play  Richard — I,  Richmond.  We  went  through  the  piece 
very  well,  till  we  got  to  the  death  scene.  Then  Richard  tried 
his  best,  and  I  buckled  to  him.  I  had  wounded  him,  and  he 
had  fallen ;  but  that  was  nothing  to  a  man  determined  to  outdo 
Kean,  and  make  the  ghost  of  Grffrick  gape  with  astonishment, 
and  shiver  in  his  shroud.  He  rolled  and  writhed  about  the 
stage,  keeping  up  the  fight  as  he  did  so,  and  striving  to  show 
his  skill  of  fence  while  in  the  death  agony.  It  was  then  that 
the  thought  seized  suddenly  upon  me  to  avail  myself  of  the 
particular  predicament  in  which  he  stood — lay  rather — to 
bring  him  to  an  accommodation — to  compel  him  to  my  own  terms. 
What  do  you  think  I  did,  Harry  Monmouth — Master  Vernon, 
I  mean — how  do  you  think  I  fixed  him?  A  thousand  to  one 
you  can  neither  of  you  guess." 

Vernon  confessed  his  inability,  and  the  father,  now  an  atten 
tive  auditor,  and  a  pleased  one  too,  as  he  beheld  the  evident 
attention  of  his  guest,  and  observed  the  more  modest  demeanor 
of  his  son,  disclaimed  with  equal  readiness  any  ability  to  con 
jecture  the  ruse  de  guerre  made  use  of  by  the  debtor  to  extort 
from  the  dying  actor,  the  loan  he  found  necessary  to  keep  him 
from  his  tailor's  clutches. 

"I  knew  it — I  knew  it  was  beyond  you  both,"  was  the 
chuckling  response  of  Richmond  to  these  admissions.  "  It  was 
a  thought  of  my  own,  and  my  own  only ;  and  what  was  it,  yon 


FATHER    AND   SON.  45 

will  ask.  Hark  ye  then  in  your  ears ;  it  was  simply  to  forbear 
killing  him.  I  began  to  play  slowly, to  evade  his  strokes  and 
avoid  pursuit  of  him.  You  may  imagine  the  predicament  of 
Richard,  half-dead,  and  inviting  the  fatal  blow.  He  called  to 
me  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  while  twisting  and  writhing  after  me, 
and  sticking  right  and  left,  at  moments  when,  in  order  to  keep 
up  appearances  with  the  audience,  I  suffered  our  swords  to 
mingle. — '  Why  the  devil  don't  you  play,  Horsey  ?'" 

"  I  answered  him  in  a  suppressed  voice,  speaking  in  the 
gorge  of  my  throat,  so  that  he  could  distinctly  hear  the  empha 
sis  which  I  employed,  and  supposed  that  it  could  not  altogether 
escape  the  hearing  of  the  audience.  Yet,  such  was  not  the  case. 
It  is  an  art  of  speech  which  I  possess,  and  of  which,  Mr.  Ver- 
non,  you  shall  have  a  sample  some  day. 

" '  Look  you,  Richard,'  said  I,  *  it  was  only  to-day  I  asked 
you  for  a  matter  of  seventy  dollars  to  pay  off  a  d — d  tailor  that 
was  troubling  me.  You  refused  me ;  was  that  done  like  Richard  V 

11  *  Strike  on,  you  d — d  fool,'  said  he,  '  or  I'll  strike  you  off. 
What  are  you  talking  about?  Strike!' 

" '  Never  till  you  consent  to  let  me  have  the  money.  You 
sha'n't  die  by  my  hands  to-night,  Richard.  I'll  leave  you  half- 
dead  upon  the  stage,  and  for  once  there  shall  be  no  catastrophe. 
Will  you  let  me  have  the  money  V 

" '  Yes,  yes,  anything,'  was  his  answer ;  '  but  strike  on,  the 
pit  is  getting  impatient.  Strike  !  strike  !' 

"  We  tugged  away  quite  heartily  then  for  a  few  seconds,  the 
house  roared  with  applause,  and  some  of  the  groundlings,  after 
he  had  received  the  coup  de  grace,  actually  encored  the  perform 
ance,  clearly  signifying  a  desire  that  he  should  do  the  death 
over  again.  But,  would  you  think  it,  the  ungrateful  tyrant  re 
fused  to  let  me  have  the  money  the  next  morning,  and  added 
to  the  enormity  of  his  conduct  by  giving  me  my  walking  ticket. 
Was  it  not  shocking,  Mr.  Vernon  ?  Did  I  not  merit  the  money 
for  the  humor  of  the  thing]  But  he  had  no  soul  to  feel  it — 
none,  none !" 

Before  Vernon  or  the  father  could  answer  the  question,  or 
comment  upon  the  transaction,  another  person  entered  the 
apartment  and  interrupted  the  dialogue.  The  introduction  of 
the  new  comer  must  be  reserved  for  another  chapter. 


4<!  BORDER  BEJLO 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE    WHY   AND   THE    WHEREFORB. 

"It  tastes 

Of  rank  injustice,  and  some  other  end 
Time  will  discover ;  and  yet  our  grace  is  bound 
To  hear  his  accusation  confirmed, 
Or  hunt  this  spotted  panther  to  hia  ruin." — SHIBLEY 

THE  stranger  was  one  of  whom  the  reader  has  already  heard. 
The  quick  eye  of  Vernon  distinguished  his  friend  at  a  glance, 
nor  was  that  of  the  other  less  observant.  The  warmth  of  their 
embrace,  when  they  met,  spoke  for  a  deep  mutual  regard  be 
tween  the  two,  not  only  superior  to  that  which  belongs  to  or 
dinary  friendships,  but  something  more  than  could  be  expected 
to  appear  in  the  case  of  persons  so  unequal  in  years".  Mr.  Car 
ter  could  not  have  been  less  than  forty-five ;  a  tall,  well-made 
man,  with  a  fine,  full,  but  dark  countenance ;  an  eye,  black  and 
lively,  but  of  benevolent  expression;  and  a  look  of  amenity 
and  kindness  which  denoted  a  degree  of  soberness  and  subdued 
thought,  in  which  the  buoyant  spirits  of  the  youth  of  twenty- 
five,  could  scarcely  find  much  that  was  congenial.  Vernon 
could  not  have  been  much  more  than  twenty-five ;  his  tempera 
ment  was  evidently  lively,  if  not  rash ;  and  good  humor  and  a 
playful  spirit,  seemed  to  predominate  in  his  disposition. 

The  gravity,  the  almost  sadness,  of  Carter's  countenance,  was 
unreflected  in  his  own ;  and  yet,  it  may  be  added,  the  sympa 
thy  was  quite  as  close  between  them,  as  could  be  hoped  for 
under  any  circumstances ;  and  whatever  might  be  the  difference 
of  their  moods  and  wishes,  undgr  the  influence  of  unequal  ages, 
there  was  none  of  that  exacting  severity,  on  the  part  of  Carter 
or  of  that  distaste  to  discipline,  on  the  side  of  Vernon,  which 
endanger  the  relation.  If  Carter  was  grave,  even  to  mcl- 


THE    WHY    AND    THE    WHEREFORE.  4*J 

ancholy,  lie  was,  at  the  same  time,  benign  and  indulgent.  He 
could  make  allowance  for  the  impatience  of  youth,  esteeming  it, 
perhaps,  a  fault  that  was  not  without  its  virtues,  in  a  country 
which  calls  more  imperatively  for  boldness  and  adventure,  than 
any  other  more  sober  qualities.  If  he  smiled  at  the  follies  of 
youth,  it  was  the  smile  of  indulgence,  or,  at  most,  of  pity,  and 
not  the  ascetic  grin  of  scorn  and  malevolence. 

Vernon,  on  the  other  hand,  warm,  impetuous,  and  lively, 
never  once  forgot  the  superior  years  of  his  patron  —  for  such 
was  Carter  —  nor  suffered  his  veneration  to  undergo  diminution 
because  the  latter  sometimes  encouraged  him  by  the  familiar 
freedoms  of  the  companion.  The  utmost  confidence  prevailed 
between  them,  the  result,  possibly,  of  a  mutual  and  perfect 
knowledge  of  their  respective  claims  and  character.  The  ob 
servation  of  Carter  had  taught  him  that  his  protege  was  a  man 
of  the  strictest  honor,  the  nicest  sensibility,  the  most  fearless 
courage  and  the  finest  talent.  Vernon  was  no  less  assured  of 
the  high  virtues  of  one  who  had  been  to  him  a  protecting  and 
wisely  indulgent  parent,  in  the  place  of  all  others,  from  his 
very  first  moment  of  reflecting  consciousness,  to  that  in  which 
they  meet  the  reader. 

The  entrance  of  Carter  was  the  signal  for  the  flight  of  the 
soi-disant  actor.  His  genius  quailed  before  the  eye  of  the  new 
comer,  in  whom  he  recognised  a  well-known  monitor,  who  did 
not  spare  his  rebuke,  and  whose  influence  upon  the  father,  had 
tended  in  no  small  degree  to  restrain  his  eccentricities,  by  di 
minishing  the  money,  which  the  old  man  was  but  too  ready  to 
yield  to  his  requisitions.  Still,  the  deportment  of  Carter  was 
kind  and  gentle  to  him,  as  to  all  the  rest,  and  as  it  was,  habit 
ually,  to  everybody.  His  salutation  differed  not  from  his  wont, 
when  he  shook  the  hand  of  the  young  man  and  bade  him  wel 
come  home,  after  so  long  an  absence.  But  this  forbearance  in 
no  wise  encouraged  the  erring  Master  Tom.  From  a  dashing, 
nonchalant  personage,  he  became  suddenly  subdued  to  the  awk 
ward  country  lout,  only  anxious  to  know  how*  best  to  effect  his 
escape  without  challenging  attention  to  his  movements.  This 
he  was  soon  enabled  to  do,  when  he  found  the  regards  of  Carter 
chiefly  bestowed  upon  the  youth,  and  his  shoulder  turned  upon 
himself.  He  stole  away,  and  was  followed  after  a  little  while,, 


48  BORDEtt   BEAGLES. 

by  old  Horsey,  whom  a  sturdy  negro  assisted  to  his  chamber. 
It  was  there  that  the  father  again  found  Young  Hopeful,  and 
renewed  the  various  dialogue,  a  sufficient  sample  of  which  the 
reader  has  already  had.  We  will  not  distress  him  by  a  repeti 
tion  of  the  dramatic  slang,  with  which  Tom  replied  to,  and  an 
noyed  the  old  man ;  whose  chief  objections  to  the  quotations, 
lay,  perhaps,  in  the  difficulty  which  he  found  to  comprehend 
them 

Our  present  purpose  carries  us  back  to  the  apartment  which 
we  left.  There,  the  two,  apparently  resuming  a  subject  already 
partially  considered,  were  earnestly  engaged  in  the  adjustment 
of  topics,  the  business  of  which  will  form  no  small  portion  of 
the  ensuing  narration.  It  may  serve  us,  therefore,  who  design 
to  trace  its  progress  to  the  end,  to  give  some  heed  to  a  confer 
ence  which  will,  perhaps,  the  better  enable  us  to  understand 
some  of  its  objects,  and  of  the  histories  of  those  who  are  most 
conspicuous  in  its  details. 

"  You  are  resolved  then,  my  son ;  you  know  all  the  adven 
ture —  its  troubles,  its  dangers  and  the  numberless  difficulfies 
that  surround  it.  These,  you  see,  at  least,  if  nothing  beside ; 
and  with  a  perfect  knowledge  of  these,  and  with  the  farther 
prospect  of  incurring  these  risks  and  difficulties  without  effect 
ing  your  purpose,  you  freely  and  voluntarily  determine  upoc 
the  journey  ?" 

"  Freely,  willingly,  my  dear  sir,  and  with  a  satisfaction,  not 
easily  expressed,  that  I  find  you  willing  to  confide  to  me  a 
charge  of  such  importance,"  was  the  unhesitating  reply  of  the 
youth. 

The  other  squeezed  his  hand  in  silence  for  a  few  moments 
ere  he  resumed. 

'  Perhaps,  Harry,  since  such  is  your  resolution,  it  is  due  t< 
you  that  I  should  unfold  myself  a  little  more.  Your  confidence 
in  me  deserves  it,  and  were  it  not  so,  the  confidence  which  1 
have  in  you  leaves  me  without  fear  that  I  incur  a  risk  in  giving 
you  my  nearest  secrets.  From  this  I  can  suffer  no  harm,  now, 
not  even  in  feeling,  by  its  revelation.  But  a  few  months,  nay 
a  few  weeks  ago,  it  had  been  otherwise.  I  am  now  free  to  re 
lieve  myself  from  the  accumulating  pressure  of  a  grief — a  grief 
of  youth,  that  I  have  learned  to  silence,  if  not  subdue — Imt 


THE   WHY    AND    THE   WHEREFORE.  49 

which  at  length  breaks  from  all  restraints  when  I  am  no  longer 
young1.  You  have  seen  this  man  V' 

"  I  have,  sir." 

"  Ay,  but  not  to  know  him.  He  is  my  senior  by  five  years, 
but  he  was  my  associate  —  my  friend — when  we  were  both 
young.  Boyish  friendships  are  of  little  value  at  any  time,  and 
in  most  cases  they  are  of  evil  consequence.  The  name  is  per 
verted,  the  tie  is  not  an  enduring  one,  and,  even  if  other  harm 
does  not  come  of  it,  the  effect  is  evil  in  teaching  us  lessons  of 
distrust,  when  genuine  worth  implores  our  confidence,  and  true 
friendship  might  be  had  by  kindred  worth.  But  I  will  deal  in 
facts  and  not  in  maxims. 

"  William  Maitland  was  my  habitual  associate  from  boyhood. 
A¥e  came  to  Mississippi  together,  and  for  several  years  I  had 
no  reason  to  regret  my  confidence  in  him.  We  lived  together 
harmoniously,  sought  the  same  sports  together,  made  the  same 
journeys  in  company,  and  took  pleasure  in  the  same  society. 
My  labors  grew  prosperous,  however,  and  his  did  not.  This 
made  him  discontented.  He  left  me  and  went  down  to  Orleans, 
where  he  invested  his  capital  in  trade.  Two  years  elapsed  be 
fore  I  again  saw  him.  I  had  in  the  meantime  become  acquainted 
with  the  family  of  Colonel  Ralph  Taylor,  of  Pearl  River.  He 
was  a  worthy  old  gentleman,  but  the  chief  attraction  of  his 
household  in  my  eye,  was  his  youngest  daughter  Ellen.  I 
loved  her,  Harry,  with  all  the  ardor  of  a  heart  as  purely  un 
selfish  in  its  pursuit  as  belongs  to  mortal ;  but  I  told  her  not  rny 
love.  I  feared  to  do  it,  as  I  saw  nothing  in  her  deportment 
which,  to  my  watchful  eyes,  held  forth  any  encouragement  to 
my  hopes.  Perhaps,  it  was,  that,  with  all  the  doubts  and  tim 
idity  of  a  true  affection,  estimating  its  own  claims  at  the  hum- 
blest  rate,  as  sincere  affection  is  most  always  apt  to  do,  I  shrunk 
from  pressing  upon  her  those  regards  which  I  felt,  and  occa 
sioned  a  kindred  doubt  in  her  mind  of  my  real  purposes.  I  had 
reason  to  think  afterward  that  I  deceived  myself — that  she 
really  loved  me  —  that — but  this  is  needless.  Enough,  that  at 
this  moment  I  received  a  visit  from  Maitland.  He  came  to 
borrow  money,  and  finding  me  not  at  home,  and  his  wants  be 
ing  pressing,  he  foliowed  me  to  the  residence  of  Colonel  Taylor. 
There  he  saw  Ellen ;  and,  to  shorten  a  story  already  quite  too 


50  BORDER  BEAGLES. 

long,  there  he  won  her.  But  not  at  this  first  visit.  He  cam. 
back  with  me  to  my  residence,  which  was  then  at  Woodville, 
and  procured  the  money  which  he  required.  But  while  with 
me,  he  artfully  procured  from  me  all  necessary  information 
with  regard  to  the  Taylor  family  —  its  character,  connections 
and  resources.  I  did  not  reveal  to  him  my  feeling  for  Ellen, 
but  he  must  have  seen  it.  A  short  time  after  this,  while  on  a 
visit  to  Natchez,  I  was  seized  with  the  yellow  fever,  which 
nearly  brought  me  to  the  grave.  For  days  I  remained  without 
consciousness  of  what  was  going  on  around  me  ;  for  weeks  with 
out  strength  to  leave  my  chamber.  In  this  time  Maitland  pros 
ecuted  opportunities  which  I  had  seemed  to  neglect.  He  pressed 
his  pretensions  upon  Ellen,  and  in  a  moment  of  wilfulness  of 
heart,  such  as  seizes  upon  the  best  of  us  at  times,  she  accepted 
him.  I  had  reason  to  know  afterward  that  she  had  not  been 
insensible  to  my  attentions,  and  that  she  was  taught  to  believe 
that  I  had  trifled  with  her.  William  Maitland  knew  of  my  ill 
ness  all  the  while,  but  studiously  withheld  the  utterance  of  what 
he  kneAAr.  The  first  knowledge  I  had  of  my  loss  was  the  notice 
of  their  marriage  in  one  of  the  Orleans  papers,  to  which  city 
he  removed  her  a  short  time  after  the  event.  Since  then  I  liavs 
but  once  seen  her,  and  then — " 

Carter  paused  in  his  narrative  as  if  struggling  with  the  chma~ 
of  those  emotions  with  which  he  had  evidently  striven  earnestly 
for  some  time  before.  He  rose  from  his  chair  and  paced  the 
room  a  while,  the  eyes  of  Vernon  in  the  meantime  being  fixei 
upon  the  fireplace. 

"  I  had  thought  myself  too  old  and  too  strong  for  these  weak 
nesses,  Harry,  but  the  affections  which  grow  up  in  solitude  sei- 
dom  become  obtuse.  Were  I  a  citizen,  now,  I  could  deliver 
you  this  narrative  with  a  smile ;  but,  as  I  am,  I  almost  regrt> 
that  I  have  begun  it." 

"  Do  not,  then,  pursue  it,  sir,  I  beg  you  —  at  least  not  on  mv 
account,"  said  Vernon. 

"  Nay,  nay,  Harry,  it  is  begun,  and  the  beginning  is  half  tho 
battle  always.     I  must  now  finish  it,  or  never.     I  trust,  having 
opened  my  bosom  to  you,  to  be  better  able  to  preserve  silence 
on  this  subject  for  ever  after.     The  affair  staggered  me  in  ic 
?ard  to  Maitland's  sincerity  and  faith.     I  was  puzzled  to  deter 


THE   WHY    AND   THE   WHEREFORE.  51 

miiie  upon  his  conduct ;  and  my  chief  suspicions  arose,  not  so 
much  from  his  having  married,  as  from  the  studious  secresy 
which  he  had  observed  toward  me  on  the  subject.  I  got  no 
letter  from  him;  I  heard  of  no  inquiry  or  invitation  —  nothing, 
indeed,  of  him  or  of  his  business,  until  he  had  removed  her  to 
Orleans.  He  had  need  of  me  again.  He  became  the  candidate 
for  an  office  of  great  trust,  and  applied  to  me  to  be  his  surety. 
It  was  then  that  I  saw  Ellen  Taylor  for  the  first,  and,  I  may 
almost  say,  the  last  time,  as  the  wife  of  another.  She  is  in  her 
grave  now ;  but  it  will  not  disparage  her  memory,  with  you, 
my  son,  when  I  tell  you,  that  it  was  from  her  but  half-conscious 
lips,  that  T  was  taught  to  believe  that  I  might  have  been  tls3 
happy  possessor  of  her  hand,  as,  to  the  last,  I  was  the  real  pos 
sessor  of  her  heart.  Do  not  attach  blame  to  the  pure  spirit  of 
her  from  whom  this  confession  came.  It  was  while  her  mind 
wandered  in  the  delirium  from  which  she  never  recovered,  that 
her  sweet  lips  told  me  this  blessed  truth.  1  kissed  them,  Harry, 
in  a  fond  requital,  when  the  angel  had  left  the  tenement  in 
which  it  had  been  so  troubled  !  I  kissed  them,  Harry,  when, 
colder  than  the  marble  which  was  so  soon  to  cover  her,  I  well 
knew  that  there  was  no  danger  that  his  lips  would  remove  the 
sad  and  sacred  seal  which  mine  had  set  upon  them  !" 

The  struggling  tear  of  Harry  Vernon  soon  followed  that  of 
his  patron.  His  silence  was  the  best  show  of  sympathy  that 
his  good  sense  suffered  him  to  make.  The  other  after  a  brief 
pause  proceeded. 

"  The  surety  which  I  then  gave  for  Maitland  is  the  cause  of 
our  trouble  now,  as  you  may  readily  suppose.  But  for  her, 
Harry,  I  had  not  given  him  my  name,  for  I  had  sufficient  rea 
son  then  to  distrust  him;  and,  but  for  her  —  but  that  I  still 
loved,  fondly  enough  for  any  sacrifice  —  I  had  not  been  guilty 
of  the  greater  folly  of  persuading  our  friend  Garbage  to  a  simi 
lar  risk.  The  defalcation  of  Maitland  will  nearly  ruin  Gamage 
as  well  as  myself.  But  this  I  can  not  suffer.  As  it  was  be 
cause  of  my  entreaties  that  he  consented  to  sign  Maitland's 
bond  with  me,  I  must  save  him  harmless  as  far  as  I  can.  To 
this  point  then,  your  commission  extends.  Let  Maitland  give 
up  the  money  which  he  is  known  to  have  taken  from  the  bank, 
and  we  will  pledge  ourselves  not  to  prosecute,  and  I  will  secure 


62  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

to  his  children  —  he  has  hut  two — the  amount  of  twenty-fit  j 
thousand  dollars,  in  any  form  of  investment  which  he  may  pry- 
scribe,  so  that  it  be  under  any  disposal  but  his  own.  Nor  shall 
he  be  left  otherwise  unconsidered  in  the  matter.  I  will  give 
him  my  bond,  stipulating  the  annual  payment  while  he  lives  of 
three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  being  a  sum  quite  sufficient  for 
his  wants  in  that  privacy  to  which  he  must,  for  his  own  and  the 
sake  of  his  children,  for  ever  after  confine  himself.  He  will 
see  from  this,  if  he  be  not  besotted  and  ripe'for  destruction,  that 
I  have  no  disposition  to  pursue  him  with  malice.  But  my  for 
bearance  is  no  tribute  to  my  regard  for  him,  any  more  than  to 
his  worth.  But  he  is  the  father  of  her  children,  and  I  would 
wish  to  save  them  from  that  shame  and  sorrow  which  justice 
might,  without  compunction,  freely  visit  upon  him.  You  now 
understand,  precisely,  the  relation  between  us,  and  will  thus  be 
better  able  to  exercise  that  discretionary  power  in  any  arrange 
ment  you  may  think  advisable  to  make,  which  you  could  not 
so  well  have  done  without  this  knowledge.  I  am  guilty  of  no 
ill-advised  or  idle  flattery,  my  dear  Harry,  when  I  declare  my 
perfect  willingness  to  rely  upon  your  judgment  and  to  abidt 
by  any  course  which  you  may  resolve  upon.  I  have  found  yoi 
always  worthy ;  I  doubt  not  that  your  ability  will  keep  pac<'. 
with  your  worth.  But  you  have  no  easy  task,  and  your  hope 
of  success  will  depend  very  much  upon  your  being  unknown  to 
Maitland. 

"  But  for  the  risk  of  spoiling  all,  you  should  not  go  alone 
upon  this  mission,  nor,  perhaps,  should  you  have  gone  at 
all.  My  appearance  would  alarm  his  fears  and  prompt  his 
flight,  and  indeed,  the  appearance  of  any  stranger  will  hatf e  a 
tendency  to  awaken  his  fears  and  compel  his  caution.  He,  no 
doubt,  wherever  he  may  be,  will  have  his  creatures  on  the 
watch,  and  be^  himself  watchful.  Your  genius  must  contrive 
its  own  modes  for  disarming  his  fears,  and  appearing  in  his 
neighborhood  as  an  ordinary  character.  I  can  give  you  but 
little  counsel  that  is  not  general.  One  rule  is  a  good  one  al 
ways  among  strangers  in  our  country,  and  that  is  to  '  be  secret, 
yet  have  no  secrets.'  Utter  yourself  without  reserve,  yet  say 
nothing  which  had  better  be  reserved.  Have  no  mysteries  to 
your  neighbor,  though  every  thought  be  hidden.  This  it 


THE    WHY   AND   THE   WHEREFORE.  58 

enough;  your  own  reflection  must  do  the  rest.  I  have  wearied 
out  your  patience,  Harry,  but  I  have  now  finished." 

"  You  spoke,  sir,  of  his  connection  with  gamblers :  io  this 
certain  ?" 

"  Yes ;  he  is  known  to  have  lost  a  part  of  the  property  which 
came  by  his  wife  at  faro  in  Orleans.  He  is  also  known  to  have 
frequented  places  of  habitual  resort  by  the  blacklegs  of  that 
city.  What  connection  he  may  have  with  them  now,  is  simply 
conjectural,  but  there  is  great  reason  to  fear  that  his  separation 
from  them  will  never  be  complete  while  he  lives.  He  had  a 
passion  for  play  which  has  probably  grown  upon  him,  and 
which  will  no  doubt  lose  him  his  ill-gotten  spoils,  unless  he  is 
very  closely  and  suddenly  pressed  for  them." 

"  May  he  not  have  lost  these  moneys  already,  sir — may  not 
his  defalcation  and  flight  have  resulted  from  his  losses  ?" 

"  I  hope  not,  and  think  not,  for  we  happen  to  know  that  the 
particular  parcels  of  gold  and  paper  which  he  took,  were  in  tho 
bank  up  to  within  three  hours  of  his  flight." 

"  That  may  be,  sir,  yet  he  may  have  appropriated  the  sums 
taken  to  the  payment  of  previous  losses." 

"  This  is  probable  in  part.  I  make  no  doubt  that  he  was 
compelled  to  appropriate  in  this  manner,  but  it  seems  scarcely 
probable  that  he  would  have  foreborne  supplying  himself  with 
the  means  of  future  indulgence  or  support.  That  he  did  not 
appear  at  the  tables  after  the  robbery,  we  know  from  those 
whom  the  bank  set  as  spies  upon  them.  Suppose,  however, 
that  ten  thousand  dollars  be  already  gone,  which  will  be  a  lib 
eral  allowance,  we  can  afford  that  —  we  must,  indeed,  and  some 
thing  more  —  but  let  us  struggle  for  the  rest.  I  make  no  secret 
to  you,  Harry,  of  the  fact  that  my  own  responsibilities  to  the 
bank,  and  the  resolve  which  I  have  taken  that  Gamage  shall 
go  harmless,  will  leave  me  destitute  —  utterly  destitute — unless 
we  recover  something  of  this  loss.'* 

"  My  efforts  shall  not  be  wanting,"  was  the  simple  assurance 
of  the  youth ;  "  you  have  provided  the  necessary  papers,  sir  ?" 

"  I  will  do  so,  and  expect  the  other  documents  from  Orleans, 
by  Friday  next.  You  will  be  compelled  to  defer  your  departure 
until  then.  Meanwhile,  it  may  be  well  if  you  attend  upon  the 
court.  It  will  help  to  conceal  your  present  object — which  it 


54  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

is  important  that  yon  should  concc.il  hero  as  elsewhere — if  you 
should  appear  like  the  rest  of  your  profession  seeking  its  usual 
opportunities.  I  doubt  whether  you'll  get  business,  but  that 
lack  is  too  general  among  beginners  to  occasion  wonder ;  and 
it  will  be  quite  enough  to  show  that  you  want,  and  would  not 
refuse  it,  if  it  were  to  offer.  But  let  us  take  a  breathing  spell 
—  you  have  ridden  far  to-day,  and  so  have  I.  A  good  night's 
sleep  will  freshen  our  minds,  and  probably  help  us  to  new  ideas. 
You  saw  the  youth  —  the  son  of  Mr.  Horsey — had  he  been 
long  before  me  ?" 

"An  hour,  perhaps  —  not  more.*' 

"A  thoughtless,  improvident  lad,  with  some  capacity  but 
little  ballast.  With  his  own  turn  of  mind,  and  his  father's  in 
dulgence,  he  will  come  to  nothing.  Caught  young,  and  in  other 
hands,  he  would  have  done  well.  It  is  too  late  now.  I  need 
not  counsel  you  to  say  nothing  that  he  should  not  hear ;  but, 
keep  your  papers  close ;  make  no  memorandums  that  he  may 
read.  He  is  honest,  I  believe,  but  has  a  prying,  curious  dispo 
sition,  as  much  the  result  of  an  idle,  restless  mood,  as  of  anything 
else.  Let  him  not  feed  it  at  our  expense,  when  a  little  timely 
prr,deTice  may  save  us  any  risk.  And  now  to  bed,  Harry,  as 
Tom  would  phrase  it,  with  what  appetite  we  may." 


A.LL   THE    WORLD   A   STAGE. 


CHAPTER    V. 

ALL    THE    WORLD    A    STAGE  —  VARIETY    OF    PLAYERS. 

Clack. — But  are  there  players  among  the  apprehended! 
Scentviell. — Yes,  sir,  and  they  were  contriving  to  act  a  play  among  then* 
selves  just  as  we  surprised  them,  and  spoiled  their  sport 
Clack. — Players!  I'll  pay  them  above  all  the  rest. 

RICHARD  BROOME,  1632. — The  Merry  Beggar*. 

WHEN  Harry  Vernon  entered  the  hall  the  next  morning,  the 
first  person  he  met  was  Master  Thomas  Horsey,  who  encoun 
tered  him,  scion  les  regies,  in  the  most  approved  fashion  of  the 
theatrical  world,  with  a  fitting  quotation,  to  provide  himself 
with  which,  he  had,  no  doubt,  groped  half  the  night  through 
his  pocket  Shakspere. 

"'My  cousin  Vernon  !  welcome,  by  my  soul !'  I've  been  wait 
ing  for  you,  sir,  with  the  impatience  of  a  thirsty  throat,  to  which 
anything  like  delay  in  the  antifogmatic,  is  almost  certain  bron 
chitis.  Here,  sir,  is  garden  mint  —  fresh,  sir — I  pulled  it  my 
self;  or,  if  you  prefer  the  animal  julep,  here  is  an  egg  —  I  did 
not  lay  it  myself,  but  will  warrant  it  quite  as  fresh  as  the  mint. 
The  whiskey  is  at  your  elbow,  the  peach  at  mine,  and  the  sooner 
we  fall  to,  the  better.  « A  good  sherris  sack  hath  a  two-fold 
operation  in  it.'  Which  take  you ?  —  What!  neither?" 

Horsey  put  down  his  own  glass  in  wonder.  The  idea  of  re 
fusing  a  morning  dram  had  never  entered  his  brain. 

"You  are  not  serious,  Mr.  Vernon?— you  will  surely  take 
one  or  t'other — the  peach  brandy?" 

'•  Neither,  Mr.  Horsey.  You  must  excuse  me ;  it  is  not  a 
habit  with  me  to  drink  in  the  morning." 

"It  is  not,  eh?  Well,  I'm  sorry  —  sorry  for  your  sake  not 
less  than  my  own.  The  habit  were  not  a  bad  one,  Mr.  Ver 
non,  nevertheless;  and  I  commend  you  to  better  examples 


BORDER   BEAGLES. 

hi  this  particular  than  it  lias  !>ecn  your  fortune  to  fall  upon.  1 
drink,  sir,  to  our  better  acquaintance.  I  should  have  relished 
much  to  have  had  some  conversation  with  you  last  night,  but 
that  '  learned  Theban,'  Master  Benjamin  Carter,  making  his  ap 
pearance,  sent  me  off  in  a  jiffy,  and  dammed  up  my  ideas  quite 
as  effectually  as  if  he  had  run  the  great  raft  of  the  Mississippi- 
bend  into  my  brain.  He's  a  sober  old  boy,  that,  Harry  Mon- 
mouth  —  likes  not  my  merriment — '  he  loves  no  plays.'  and  still 
less  players,  '  and  smiles  in  such  a  sort.'  I  tell  you  what,  Mas 
ter  Vernon,  though  no  man  can  think  of  Ben  Carter  more  wor 
thily  than  I  do,  yet,  .by  the  faith  that  is  within  me,  I  fear  him 
something  —  that  is  'I  rather  tell  thee  what  is  to  be  feared 
than  what  I  fear.'  He  hath  ever  been  a  sort  of  curb  upon  me ; 
he  sees  through  my  follies,  when  dad  is  about  to  reward  them 
as  virtues  ;  and  the  tricks  which  would  triumph  over  everybody 
else,  he  seems  to  unravel  as  easily,  and  trace  home  to  the  true 
author  as  certainly,  as  if  he  had  a  gift  of  divining.  He's  a  re 
lation  of  yours,  Master  Vernon  ?" 

"No,  sir  —  none  —  an  acquaintance  of  my  father,  and  friend 
of  the  family." 

"You're  from  below? — left  the  old  people?  —  'Egad  I  had 
almost  asked  if  you  had  not  left  them  with  light  heels  and 
lighter  heart.  I've  been  so  much  used  to  doing  that  sort  of 
business  myself  that  the  suspicion  was  natural  enough,  though, 
seeing  you  with  Ben  Carter,  such  a  conjecture  would  have  been 
very  foolish.  You're  a  lawyer  ?  Come  to  plead  at  Raymond ! 
Got  any  business  to  go  upon  yet?"  &c. 

Young  Horsey  resembled  his  father  in  one  respect :  he  had 
all  his  curiosity.  We  have  thrown  into  the  compass  of  one 
paragraph  the  hundred  questions  which  he  contrived  to  ask  be 
fore  the  rest  of  the  family  made  their  appearance.  In  the  sight 
of  Carter  his  ardor  was  something  restrained,  though,  in  the 
mild  benignant  countenance  of  the  latter,  one  would  set,k  in 
vain  for  that  sign  of  power  to  which  the  young  actor  ascribed 
so  much  potency.  He  finished  his  breakfast  before  the  rest, 
and,  as  he  left  the  room,  catching  the  eye  of  Vernon,  ho  put  on 
the  aspect  and  manner  of  an  awkward  clown,  terrified  at  finding 
himself  in  so  solemn  presence,  and  striving  to  leave  it  with  a* 
little  noise  as  necessary,  by  moving  on  tip-toe  and  backward  to 


ALL  THE  WORLD  A  STAGE.  *>7 

the  entrance.  Once  there,  he  bounded  from  the  steps,  and  by 
a  single  agile  movement  was  in  the  middle  of  the  road.  Tha 
next  moment  he  might  be  heard,  spouting  a  favorite  passage  at 
the  very  top  of  his  voice 

"  If  Tom  would  only  leave  off  that  d — d  player-book,"  began 
the  father  apologetically  to  Carter. 

"  It  is  a  folly  that  will  do  no  harm,  my  good  friend,  unless 
you  stimulate  it  by  hard  usage.  The  book  is  innocent  enough 
—  it  is  not  that,  but  the  love  of  praise,  which  turns  your  son's 
head.  Listen  to  his  speeches  patiently,  and  he  will  think  you 
the  best  audience  he  ever  had ;  and  if  you  can  sometimes  con 
trive  to  clap  your  hands  together  in  this  manner  when  he  has 
concluded  his  speech — " 

"  As  they  do  at  the  theatre-houses  ?"  demanded  the  father 
with  some  eagerness. 

"Ay — even  so." 

"Well,  Carter,  what  then — what'll  be  the  good  of  it?" 

"  I  think  it  not  unlikely  he  will  be  content  to  stay  at  home 
with  you  and  mind  his  business." 

"  But  he  promises  to  do  so  now,  Ben  Carter.  He  says  he's 
done  with  Orleans  and  the  play-houses.  He  has  good  reason 
for  it,  I  can  tell  you.  He's  grazed  upon  the  sheriff  at  Orleans, 
and  had  a  queer  bout  with  the  head  man  of  the  theatre.  He 
told  us  all  about  it  last  night — I  didn't  quite  see  into  the  fun 
of  the  thing,  but  Tom  says  it  was  deused  funny,  and  Mr.  Vernon 
was  mightily  tickled  at  the  story.  I  think  there  is  a  change 
in  Tom,  and  us  he  promises  so  fair — " 

"  Don't  rely  too  much  upon  his  promises.  He  can  not  so 
soon  break  away  from  his  old  habits,  and  must  be  allowed  some 
little  farther  swing  before  he  dismisses  his  levities  sufficiently 
to  suffer  him  to  come  home  and  go  to  work.  Only  do  not  by 
unnecessary  harshness  drive  him  into  them.  Notice  his  follies 
as  little  as  may  be,  and  tolerate  his  speeches  even  where  you 
do  not  exactly  understand  them.  The  scorn  of  a  father  not 
unfrequently  drives  a  son  to  defiance ;  when  some  little  indul 
gence  to  his  idle  tastes,  might  leave  him  free  to  see  into  their 
absurdities  himself.  Let  me  warn  you,  however,  to  give  him 
as  little  money  as  possible.  He  wants  but  little  in  the  country, 
and  where  he  asks  for  much,  it  is  a  sure  sipi  of  profligacy 


58  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

Do  not  expect  to  see  him  sober  on  a  sudden.  I  would  rather 
he  should  not  become  so.  I  should  suspect  him  of  a  worse  of 
fence  still,  than  any  you  have  ugainst  him  —  hypocrisy.  The 
best  sign  in  his  favor,  since  his  return,  is  that  he  still  continues 
his  spouting,  knowing  your  hostility  to  the  practice  —  though 
it  may  prove  him  wanting  in  proper  reverence,  it  saves  him  at 
least  from  the  suspicion  of  disingenuousness.  Give  him  em 
ployment  as  soon  as  you  can,  and  let  time  do  the  rest.  A  sud 
den  change  is  seldom  to  be  relied  on ;  and  a  transition  from 
one  extreme  to  another,  is  almost  always  the  practice  of  a 
rogue." 

"But  Tom  is  honest — Tom's  no  rogue,  Ben  Carter." 

"  I  believe  it,  Horsey.  Do  you  take  care  that  you  do  not 
make  him  one.  It  is  not  uncommon  for  you  to  denounce  him 
as  a  rogue — to  call  him  rascal,  and  scoundrel,  and  such  abusive 
names  as  these.  To  give  him  the  rogue's  reputation,  is  to  take 
from  him  one  of  the  great  inducements  to  be  an  honest  man. 
Beware  that  you  do  not  this." 

Meanwhile,  the  subject  of  this  discussion  was  pursuing  his 
walk,  with  all  the  heedlessness  of  a  wayward  mind,  through  all 
the  nooks  and  crannies  of  the  village.  He  was  busy  seeking 
dut  old  haunts  and  old  associates.  Tom  Horsey  was  popular 
with  everybody  in  Raymond  but  his  father.  His  pompous 
declamations,  his  .noisy  humor,  the  readiness  with  which  he 
joined  in  a  joke,  and  the  steadfastness  with  which  he  pursued 
(t,  commended  him  naturally  to  all  the  younger  portions  of  the 
community ;  and  now  that  he  reappeared  among  them,  there 
were  salutations  on  every  hand.  Smiles  and  pleasant  speeches, 
that  inflated  the  vain  heart  of  the  youth  to  the  utmost,  encoun 
tered  him  at  every  corner,  and  he  swaggered  along  the  main 
street  with  the  air  of  one  conscious  that  his  movements  were 
witnessed  by  an  audience  far  more  indulgent  than  ever  Rich 
mond  found  at  Orleans,  even  when  he  bestrid  the  tyrant,  and 
commanded  his  own  terms  from  the  prostrate  and  ungenerous 
manager. 

There  was  a  miserable  little  rookery  that  stood  at  the  west 
ern  entrance  of  the  village,  where  a  still  more  miserable  sort 
of  business  was  carried  on  by  a  man  named  Hawkins.  This 
man  was  an  idle  worthless  creature,  and  his  obvious  pursuit* 


ALL   THE    WORLD   A   STAGE.  59 

were  supposed  by  many  persons  to  be  only  a  sort  of  cover  foi 
other  objects  which  were,  possibly,  far  more  profitable,  though 
not  so  legitimate.  In  his  shop  might  be  seen  a  barrel  of  whis 
key,  a  kitt  of  tobacco,  a  few  knives,  pipes,  candles,  and  'coon- 
skins  ;  seldom  anything  more ;  but  there  were  shed-rooms  to 
his  dwelling,  and  upper  chambers,  which  were  asserted  to  be 
very  well  fitted  up,  in  which  no  limited  profits  were  made  out 
of  the  ignorant  and  the  unwary.  Public  Justice  had  her  eye 
upon  this  establishment,  but,  up  to  the  present  time,  nothing 
had  transpired  of  sufficient  importance  to  justify  her  in  setting 
her  hands  upon  the  lintel.  The  proprietor  kept  a  closer  watch 
upon  her  movements,  than  her  emissaries  maintained  over  his ; 
and  whatever  might  have  been  the  suspicions  of  the  neighbors, 
Hawkins  met  them  with  a  bold  front,  and  challenged  their  inquiries. 

To  this  house  the  actor  drew  nigh.  His  approach  was 
watched  by  the  proprietor  and  another  man,  who  stood  with 
him  at  the  entrance. 

"  Here  is  the  very  chap  himself,"  said  Hawkins.  "  This  is 
the  younger  Horsey — the  crazy  actor  —  who  run  away  to  Or 
leans,  and  paid  the  manager,  it  is  said,  for  permission  to  appear 
and  spend  his  father's  picayunes  as  fast  as  they  are  made.  Yet 
the  old  fool  dotes  upon  him,  and  will  leave  himself  bare  to  give 
the  youngster  his  buff  breeches.  By  a  little  management  we 
may  get  out  of  him  all  that  we  want  to  know,  or,  at  least,  all 
that  he  is  able  to  tell.  He  is  vain  of  his  abilities  as  an  actor* 
and  by  feeding  his  swallow,  we  may  easily  pick  his  teeth." 

"  Is  it  he  that  struts  so  ?"  demanded  the  other. 

"  The  same.  This  stranger,  Vernon,  lodges  with  his  father. 
It  is  known  that  he  inquired  for  Carter  on  his  first  arrival,  and 
received  directions  to  the  house  of  Horsey." 

"  And  what  can  this  silly  fellow  know  ?  If  he  be  the  man 
you  speak  him,  would  they  be  fools  enough  to  trust  him  with 
any  of  their  secrets  ?" 

"  Scarcely — I  do  not  hope  for  that.  But  Tom  Horsey  is  one 
of  those  restless,  fidgetty  sort  of  persons,  who  are  continually 
meddling  with  the  affairs  of  other  people.  He  will  glean  from 
his  father  all  that  he  knows  of  Carter  and  Vernon,  and  if  they 
are  not  exceedingly  sly,  he  will  see  into  their  concerns  as  far 
as  themselves." 


CO  BORDER  BEAGLES. 

"  It  can  do  no  harm  to  sound  liim.     He  draws  nigh." 

"  Hawkins  advanced  from  the  doorway,  and  addressed  the 
actor  in  a  fashion  of  his  own. 

" '  Horatio,  or  I  do  mistake  myself/  " 

" '  The  same,'  Mr.  Hawkins,  '  and  your  good  servant  ever/ 
How  does  the  world  use  you  —  still  in  the  old  stand,  I  see." 

"  Ay,  Tom,  and  at  a  stand.  But  where  have  you  been  this 
year  of  Sundays.  I  haven't  seen  you  '  since  the  gander's  neck 
was  last  soaped/  " 

" '  No  more  of  that,  Hal,  an  thou  lovest  me/  "  was  the  reply, 
followed  by  a  hearty  laugh  from  both,  as  the  phrase,  which 
may  seem  somewhat  mysterious  to  any  but  southern  readers, 
reminded  them  of  one  of  those  practical  jokes,  in  which 
it  was  Tom  Horsey's  misfortune  too  frequently  to  indulge. 
"No  more  of  that,  Hawkins,  I  pray  you — let  that  story  be 
forgotten." 

"  Forgotten,  indeed  ?  —  impossible  ;  the  story's  quite  too  good 
and  I  must  tell  it  to  my  friend  here.  Saxon,  Mr.  Thomas  Hor 
sey  ;  Tom,  my  friend  Ellis  Saxon,  a  gentleman  from  the  Yazoo 
—  a  glorious  fellow  like  yourself,  loves  a  joke  from  the  bottom 
of  his  heart,  and  will  die  some  clay  in  a  frolic — " 

"  In  a  ditch  !"  cried  Horsey,  concluding  the  sentence.  "  Par 
don  me,  Mr.  Saxon,  the  prediction  is  just  as  like  and  more  like 
to  fall  upon  me  than  upon  you  ;  and  it's  an  old  rhyme  of  a  song 
that  the  western  boys  sing  when  they're  boating  down  to  Or 
leans  :"  and  he  repeated  the  lines  that  follow :  — 

"Though  we  be  not  wise  or  rich, 
Yet  what  matter — touch  the  snag — 
We  can  frolic  in  a  ditch, 
Fierce  at  poker,  brave  at  brag." 

"  A  good  song — I've  heard  it  a  hundred  times,  though  not 
lately.  The  boatmen  are  done  up  now.  These  steam-sturgeons 
have  cut  up  as  pretty  a  branch  of  business  as  ever  needed  a 
long  pole,  and  deserved  a  glorious  frolic.  But  what  of  that, 
Tom  Horsey  ?  Is  there  to  be  no  pleasure  in  the  world  because 
we  can  get  to  Orleans  now  in  ten  days  in  place  of  forty  ?  If 
the  steam-sturgeon  does  up  the  'broad  horn/  there's  a  long 
horn  that  raises  the  steam.  Come  in,  my  son,  and  take  a  sup 
of  whiskey  while  I  tell  Saxon  about  the  goose's  neck." 


ALL   THE   WORLD   A    STAGE.  61 

"  No,  no,  Hawkins,  let  ihat  dog  sleep.  I'll  come  in  and  join 
you  with  the  whiskey,  but  no  scratching  old  sores,  say  1.'* 

"What,  you're  not  afraid  of  consequences  now  —  don't  you 
know  the  old  Squire's  done  up  —  gone  to  his  long  nap.  He'll 
tiever  trouble  you  about  it,  sonny." 

"  No  matter,  I've  sworn  off  from  these  tricks,  Bill  Hawkins ! 

—  I've  promised  the  old  man  to  put  on  a  straight  coat,  crop  my 
hair  and  go  to  meeting  o'  Sundays — " 

"  And  be  at  all  the  love-feasts  !  — what  of  all  that,  Tom  ?  — - 
do  you  think  to  keep  your  neighbor  from  being  happy  because 
you  have  grown  sour.  'Because  thou  art  virtuous,  shall  there 
be  no  more  cakes  and  ale  V  Come  in,  thou  reluctant  saint,  who 
would  put  on  two  faces  of  tragedy  and  comedy  at  the  same  time 

—  come  in,  and  Saxon  will  tell  you  of  the  splendid  blowout  on 
the  Georgiana  steamboat,  going  up  the  river  last  month.     They 
had  a  play  on  board,  Tom  Horsey  —  an  amateur  play  —  and 
played  Julius  Caesar  to  more  than  four  hundred  persons,  the 
part  of  Brutus  by  our  old  friend,  Hugh  Peters,  the  limping 
schoolmaster  at  Clinton." 

"  Hugh  Peters  play  Brutus — the  impudent  pedagogue !  You 
don't  say  so,  Mr.  Saxon ;  do  tell  me  all  the  particulars.  Hugh 
Peters,  indeed !  What  could  have  put  it  into  the  leatherhead, 
to  think  that  he  could  play  Brutus  ?"  • 

"What  but  hearing  us  spout  the  dialogue  at  school — 'That 
you  have  wronged  me,'  &c.  But,  come  in ;  the  water's  on  the 
fire,  and  the  whiskey  on  the  stand." 

The  news  of  the  amateur  performance  was  quite  enough  for 
the  mercurial  Horsey.  His  good  resolutions  were  forgotten  in 
an  instant,  and  in  two  minutes  more  he  was  sitting  between 
Hawkins  and  Saxon,  in  a  little  cupboard-like  apartment,  back 
of  the  house,  a  kettle  upon  the  fire,  glasses  upon  the  table,  and 
everything  in  preparation  for  one  of  those  regular  rounds  to 
which  the  young  actor  was  already  but  too  much  accustomed. 

"  These  steamboats  have  their  advantages  after  all ;  and  so, 
Mr.  Saxon,  the  chaps  on  board  the  Georgiana  got  up  a  tolera 
ble  piece  of  work,  did  they  ?" 

"  Ay,  on  the  upper  deck,  Mr.  Horsey ;  and  considering  the 
short  preparation  they  had,  the  thing  was  really  well  done. 
There  was  one  chap,  an  actor  from  Orleans,  named  Tilton — " 


62  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

u  Tilton,  I  know  him — a  mere  candle-snuffer — what  the  d — 1 
did  he  pretend  to  do?"  demanded  Horsey,  interrupting  the 
speaker. 

"  He  played  Caesar — played  the  ghost  rather,  and  did  it  so 
well,  that  he  scared  the  women  half  to  death.  His  face  was  so 
pale — I  can't  conceive  how  he  could  have  brought  himself  to 
so  death-like  a  complexion." 

"Psha,  sir,  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world — a  little  chalk  or 
magnesia  does  it  —  and  as  for  the  whiskers,  the  mustache,  the 
imperial,  and  such  small  matters,  they  lie,  sir,  at  the  end  of  a 
burned  cork,  and  may  be  had  at  a  moment's  warning." 

"Ah,  indeed!"  was  the  response  of  Mr.  Saxon,  made  with 
the  utmost  seeming  simplicity. 

The  conceited  Thespian  continued  : — 

"  These  are  the  arts,  sir,  of  the  actor ;  and,  though  not  ab 
solutely  essential  to  the  artist,  yet  you  can  not  conceive  how 
much  they  help  the  imagination  of  the  spectator;  in  the  arous 
ing  of  which  lies,  probably,  the  great  secret  of  the  good  drama 
tist  and  perfect  actor :  but  what  you  tell  me  of  'Little  Bowlegp' 
—  so  we  used  to  call  Hugh  Peters — 'ye  gods,  it  doth  amazic 
me  !'  to  think  that  he  should  presume  to  play  at  all,  and  then  to 
play  Brutus  —  'twas  a  test  part — a  fellow  that  talks  through  his 
nose,  and  swings-  his  arms  about  like  a  windmill  —  that  walks, 
for  all  the  world,  like  a  strutting  gobler,  and  has  a  face  like  a 
squash.  Ha!  ha!  it  must  have  been  very  ridiculous,  Mr. 
Saxoii." 

"  Not  at  all,"  was  the  reply.  "  We  were  all  too  dull,  and 
wanting  something  to  enliven  us,  the  thing  did  well  enough ; 
and  there  were  some  present,  who  thought  Caesar  was  done 
quite  as  well  as  Caldwell  himself  could  have  done  it." 

"  Caldwell  be  d — d  !"  was  the  irreverent  response  of  Horsey 
to  this  opinion. 

"  Pardon  me,  Mr.  Saxon ;  I  mean  no  offence,  but  it  agitates 
my  bile,  when  I  hear  Caldwell  spoken  of  in  tragedy  I  should 
think  better  of  Herr  Cline,  the  rope-dancer.  '  I'm  a  soused 
gurnet,'  sir,  if  Caldwell  is  anything  but  a  comedian  —  a  devilish 
clever  comedian,  who  spoils  himself  by  attempting  anything 
else ;  and  as  for  these  folks  in  the  steamboat,  being  pleased 
with  such  performers  as  Tilton  and  « Little  Bowlegs,'  they  must 


ALL   THE   WORLD    A   STAGE.  Jb 

have  been  most  cursedly  tired  of  the  boat,  or  must  have  had 
the  smallest  possible  particle  of  good  taste  and  good  sense 
among  them.  '  Brutus,  Hugh  Peter/  '  Julius  Csesar,  Jim  Til- 
ton* —  candle-snuifers  in  extraordinary  for  the  American  theatre 
— it's  very  ridiculous.  Hawkins,  trouble  you  for  that  spoon, 
and  the  sugar." 

A  quiet  smile  of  contempt  played  over  the  cold,  dark  features 
of  Saxon,  as  he  saw  the  importance  which  the  youth  attached 
to  the  matter,  and  beheld  the  swelling  indignation  with  which 
he  spoke  of  the  despised  amateurs.  As  if  disposed  to  humor 
the  folly  and  conceit  of  the  youth,  he  continued  the  topic. 

"  But  are  you  not  exceedingly  aristocratic  in  your  notions, 
Mr.  Horsey  1  Because  a  man  has  been  forced  to  snuff  candles, 
does  it  follow  that  he  is  incapable  of  something  better  ?" 

"  Surely  not,  sir,  surely  not.  The  fates  forbid  that  I  should 
deal  in  such  a  pernicious  doctrine.  What  was  Shakspere  him 
self,  my  masters ;  his  early  career  is  enough,  without  other  au 
thority,  to  prevent  me  from  such  sheer  folly  of  opinion;  but 
Tilton  is  no  Shakspere,  nor  no  Garrick ;  and,  however  he  may 
have  played  the  ghost  of  Caesar,  I  tell  you,  he  will  be  nothing 
but  a  miserable  candle-snuffer  all  his  life.  Look  you,  I  reason 
thus,  Mr.  Saxon.  I  have  seen  our  friend,  Hawkins,  jump  for  a 
wager,  and  know  his  best  pitch  to  a  feather's  width.  Shall  I 
not  be  able  to  say,  '  Thus  far  can  Bill  Hawkins  jump,  and  no 
farther  V  Even  thus  do  I  tell  you  that  Tilton  was  born  to  be  a 
candle-snuffer,  and  nothing  better — unless  it  be  a  call-boy  on 
the  stage." 

"  Yet  was  it  said,"  remarked  Saxon  quietly,  "  that  he  was  go 
ing  to  open  the  theatres  at  Vicksburg  and  Natchez." 

"  '  Gods,  grant  us  patience !'  but  it  is  scarce  possible  !" 

"  I  heard  as  much  myself,"  was  the  confirmatory  statement 
of  Hawkins. 

"  The  d — d  fool ! — he's  mad — utterly  mad.  On  the  word  of 
a  gentleman,  Mr.  Saxon,  this  fellow  has  no  sort  of  rank — no 
reputation — no  ability.  Were  I  a  manager,  he  should  have  no 
employment  at  my  hands.  The  fellow  is  perfectly  incapable." 

"He  is  going  to  have  a  roaring  company,  nevertheless," 
said  Hawkins.  «•  He's  engaged  Peters  for  third-rate  characters 
and  is  getting:  up  recruits  from  every  Quarter." 


34  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

f"I  shall  forget  myself!'  Was  there  ever  such  an  insolent 
pretender  ?" 

The  amateur  was  almost  furious.  The  moment  had  arrived 
when  he  could  be  best  practised  upon ;  and  the  game  was  con 
tinued. 

"  They  say  he  has  taken  up  actors  even  here  in  Raymond 
Was  not  this  young  fellow  Vernon,  one  of  his  men  ?"  was  the 
inquiry  of  Saxon,  urged  with  a  manner  of  the  most  perfect  in 
difference. 

"  Yes,  I  think  that  was  the  name.  He  came  into  town  last 
night,"  replied  Hawkins. 

"Who? — what?  Harry  —  Harry  Vernon  !  Psh  a,  Haw 
kins,  I  know  all  about  that.  He's  none  of  them  —  he's  no  actor 
—  nothing  but  a  lawyer  riding  the  circuit.  He's  a  sort  of  rela 
tion  of  sour  Ben — so  we  call  Ben  Carter — and  I  s'pose  the  old 
boy's  got  him  some  cases.  He  stayed  with  us  last  night,  and 
I  took  a  julep  with  him  this  morning.  Told  me  all  about  it 
himself." 

"  Indeed  !  He's  a  relation  of  Carter,  and  no  actor,  then  ?" 
demanded  Saxon. 

"  No  !  he's  no  actor — has  no  notion  of  it.  As  for  his  being  a 
relation  of  sour  Ben,  I  don't  know  whether  I'm  right  to  say 
that — indeed,  for  that  matter,  I  think  he  told  me  he  was  not — 
only  an  acquaintance.  No,  he's  no  actor,  I  assure  you ;  and  if 
all  your  information  about  Tilton  and  Bowlegs  be  no  better 
founded  than  this,  I  wouldn't  give  much  for  the  new  theatre." 

"  You  may  be  deceived  even  in  this,  Mr.  Horsey,"  said  Sax 
on.  "  This  young  man  Veruon,  they  say,  is  going  up  into  the 
Yazoo.  Did  he  tell  you  that  ?" 

"  Lord,  no !  There's  no  truth  in  it,  I'm  certain,  and  sour 
Ben  is  too  strict  a  chap  to  be  very  close  with  an  actor.  If  he 
only  once  dreamed  that  Harry  Vernon  had  such  a  notion,  he'd 
throw  up  his  hand  in  a  minute.  I  know  sour  Ben  too  well  : 
he'd  cut  loose  from  the  young  'un,  and  leave  him  just  rope 
enough  to  hang  himself." 

"What  you  say  rather  strengthens  the  report.  If  Vernon 
knows  this  of  Carter,  as  without  doubt  he  does,  would  not  this 
be  reason  enough  why  he  should  keep  his  secret  while  under 
the  old  man's  eye,  particularly,  if  he  has  any  favor  to  look  for 


ALL   THE  WORLD   A  STAGE.  65 

at  Carter's  hands — as  it  is  said  he  has?  Now,  they  dc  say, 
and  I  may  as  well  tell  you,  I  heard  it  A-om  Tilton  himself,  on 
board  the  Georgiana,  that  Vernon  was  engaged  secretly  to  play 
first  characters." 

"The  devil!  you  say — first  characters!"  was  the  exclama 
tion  of  the  astounded  amateur.  "  Who  could  have  believed  it 
— the  fellow  was  so  sly.  But  I  needn't  wonder  at  that.  Egad, 
I  played  a  shy  game  at  first  with  Ben  Carter  myself.  Bat, 
Harry  Monmouth  —  well,  to  confess  a  truth,  the  chap  played 
the  sly  one  cleverly,  if  what  you  tell  me  be  indeed  the  truth. 
But  I  am  not  certain  yet." 

"  Look  into  it,"  said  Hawkins  carelessly ;  "  and  so  sure  am  I 
that  Saxon  has  good  authority  for  what  he  says,  I'll  go  a  quart, 
and  a  dozen  cabanas  upon  it." 

"  Soh  !  it's  a  bet,"  replied  the  amateur.  "  Our  hands  upon  it, 
Trojan,  and  it  will  be  a  close  tongue  that  can  keep  my  worm 
from  getting  under  it.  I'll  through  Harry  Monmouth's  knap 
sack  before  he  takes  his  crumbs  out,  or  may  I  never  look  down 
upon  the  footlights  again.  Mr.  Saxon" — drinking — "the 
stage,  sir,  though  it  be  carried  in  a  steamboat." 

"Very  good — devilish  good,  Tom,"  cried  Hawkins,  appa 
rently  delighted  with  the  modest  play  upon  words  which  the 
actor  had  attempted.  "  You  were  always  clever  at  these  things, 
but  your  frolic  seems  to  have  freshened  and  improved  you.  But 
what  did  the  old  man  say,  Tom,  when  you  came  back  ?  The 
story  was  that  you  had  made  his  factor  hand  over  to  the  tune 
of  three  or  four  thousand  dollars,  which  you  lost  at  faro  in  one 
night." 

"  Not  so  bad  as  that,  Hawkins,  though  bad  enough  still.  I 
have  worried  the  old  man  something  too  much,  but  I  have 
promised  him  reformation,  and — " 

"Will  keep  your  promise — if  you  can." 

"  Well  said,  Hawkins,"  responded  the  youth  with  a  sigh ;  if 
I  can.  The  task  is  a  very  difficult  one;  for  this  d — d  stufl 
you've  been  telling  me  of  Tilton  and  his  floating  theatre,  hag 
put  me  in  a  most  inconceivable  state  of  combustion.  I  should 
think  well  of  the  plan,  if  that  wool-headed  candle-snuffer  had 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  In  good  hands  a  theatre  at  Natchez — ' 

"  Under  the  hill,"  said  Hawkins  with  a  sneer. 


66  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

"No,  no!  there's  too  much  bell-broth  there;  the  gruel  is 
slab,  but  not  good  enough  in  that  quarter,  unless  in  playing 
Tom  and  Jerry,  to  which  I  do  not  much  incline ;  but  for  a  re 
spectable  establishment,  I  doubt  not  that  we  should  be  able  to 
keep  it  up,  and  put  money  in  our  pockets,  at  least  four  months 
in  the  year.  We  could  then  shift  our  quarters,  as  the  old 
players  did,  from  one  barn  to  another.  We  could  go  to  Vicks- 
tmrg,  Grand  Gulf,  Manchester,  Port  Gibson,  and  all  about,  and 
drive  the  prettiest  and  merriest  gipsy  business  one  could  desire. 
'  By  the  Lord,  our  plot  is  a  good  plot  as  ever  was  laid !'  but  it 
would  spoil  the  best  plot,  ay,  and  the  best  pla^-  too,  to  have 
ftuch  a  botch  as  Tilton  in  the  management." 

"  Tilton,  or  no  Tilton,  Tom,  remember  the  bet.  We  must 
satisfy  it  before  this  youth,  Vernon,  leaves  Raymond." 

"My  hand  on't.  But  are  you  for  court  now  —  what's  to  be 
done  —  any  murder  cases.  I  like  to  listen  to  them;  they  are 
so  many  eggs  for  tragedy,  which  unborn  Shaksperes  may 
hatch.  What  say  you,  men  —  go  along  with  me." 

"  Time  enough ;  the  court  won't  open  for  an  hour,  and  there 
are  only  a  few  cases  of  assault  and  battery ;  nothing  of  interest. 
Stay  awhile  and  sup  your  whiskey,  and  we'll  go  with  you  then. 
sax  on,  your  glass  waits." 

Let  us  leave  the  trio  for  awhile. 


HUMORS   OF    A    CLIENT.  67 


CHAPTER    VI. 

HUMORS    OF    A    CLIENT  —  NEW    MODE    OF    ARGUING    A    CASE    OF 
ASSAULT    AND    BATTERY. 

"See,  where  he  lies,  slaughtered  without  the  camp, 
And  by  a  simple  swain,  a  mercenary, 
Who  bravely  took  the  combat  to  himself." — ROB.  GREENE,  1560. 

VERNON,  meanwhile,  accompanied  by  his  friend  and  patron, 
proceeded  to  the  court-house,  in  the  area  in  front  of  which  he 
encountered  the  curious  gaze  of  all  the  natives  to  whom  the 
face  of  a  stranger  is  instantly  obvious,  and  in  the  examination 
of  whom  they  do  not  always  content  themselves  with  the  keen 
scrutiny  of  the  eye.  "  Whar*  are  you  from,  stranger  ?"  and 
"  whar'  are  you  guine  !"  and  "  what's  your  business  here  V  and 
"  what  do  you  do  there  ?"  are  the  ordinary  questions  by  which 
the  forest-born  contrive  to  obtain  possession  of  that  intelligence 
for  which  the  Atlantic  citizen  has  his  morning  gazette. 

The  crowd  was  fast  assembling,  and  Vernon  left  alone  by 
Mr.  Carter,  who  was  required  to  attend  to  some  pressing  busi 
ness  elsewhere,  was,  of  course,  compelled  to  go  through  his 
examination  like  all  the  rest,  and  bore  it  with  the  most  becom 
ing  fortitude  and  good  nature.  Not  that  he  answered  his 
inquisitors  with  a  strict  regard  to  the  truth ;  this  might  have 
exposed  him  to  defeat  in  the  purposes  which  he  had  in  view ; 
but  with  that  ready  adroitness  which  is  the  sign  of  keen  and 
quick  imagination,  and  which,  by  the  way,  is  one  of  the  very 
first  requisites  in  a  country  circuit  lawyer,  he  answered  them 
in  such  a  way  as  to  reveal  nothing,  and  yet  satisfy  them  that 
he  had  nothing  more  to  reveal.  When  asked  about  New 
Orleans,  he  could  tell  them  a  long  story  about  the  new  big 
steamboat  ol  which  they  had  heard  wonders ;  and  by  con 
versing  freely  with  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry,  about  matters  with 


68  BORDER  BEAGLES: 

which  neither  himself  nor  Tom,  Dick,  or  Harry,  had  anything  to 
do,  convinced  all  around  that  he  was  no  starched,  stiff-necked 
upstart,  so  solicitous  of  his  own  birth,  family,  and  fortune,  as  to 
dread  the  effect  of  their  contact  upon  his  nobility. 

"  A  'cute  chap,"  said  one,  "  that  fellow,  Vernon ;  knows  all 
about  that  Orleans  railroad  and  the  big  steamboat;  says 
Madame  Lalaurie,  she  that  licked  her  poor  niggers  to  death,  and 
tied  'em  week  after  week  without  hog  or  hominy,  will  get 
mightily  smashed  among  the  Orleans  lawyers." 

"  He's  an  Orleans  lawyer,  then  ?"  demanded  another. 

"  I  rether  reckon  so,"  was  the  reply,  "  though,  by  the  powers, 
he  didn't  tell  me  that." 

"  Well,  but  now  he's  moved  into  Massissippi,  or  how  could  he 
come  to  plead  here  in  Raymond." 

"  That's  true  —  I'll  go  and  ax  him  where  he  lives  now ;  I 
rather  like  the  chap,"  was  the  opinion  and  resolve  of  the 
baffled  inquisitor,  whom  Vernon  had  contrived  to  lead  from 
himself  by  freely  enlarging  upon  other  matters,  which,  for  the 
moment,  amply  satisfied  the  hearer's  curiosity. 

But  the  youth  had  disappeared  from  the  spot,  and  was  then 
in  the  rear  of  the  courthouse  where  he  had  been  called  by 
Carter  who  held  him  in  close  conference.  Meanwhile,  the 
court  was  convened,  his  honor  had  taken  his  seat,  and  the 
crowd,  hurrying  with  that  strange  curiosity  which  is  never  so 
well  satisfied  as  when  it  hears  of  the  misdeeds  of  its  own 
nature,  and  which  is  never  so  active  and  apprehensive  as  in  a 
secluded  country  village,  soon  forgot  all  concern  for  the  inter 
esting  stranger,  and  gave  itself  up,  soul  and  body,  to  the 
clamors  of  officers,  silencing  clamor;  the  calls  of  jurymen  and 
witnesses;  the  small  wit  of  small  lawyers,  and  the  sapient 
wisdom  of  the  judge,  whose  oracles,  generally  monosyllabic, 
are  accompanied  by  a  shake  of  the  head,  worse-wise  than 
Burleigh's. 

Carter,  having  concluded  the  relation  of  a  matter  which 
belonged  to  the  expedition  of  his  protege"  was  about  to  with 
draw  with  him  to  the  great  moral  bull-ring,  when  one  of  those 
little  and  most  amusing  incidents  took  place,  which  could  only 
take  place  in  a  country  such  as  ours,  where  a  bold  decisive 
"Zlraracter  is  formed  l-y  the  adventurous  life  nhicli  it  tnnkc* 


HOMORS  OP  A   CLIENT.  6l 

piominent,  if  not  necessary ;  and  where  a  free  spirit  and 
genuine  humor  seem  absolutely  to  result  from  the  absence  of 
any  of  those  educational  restraints,  which,  in  New  England, 
graduate  all  intellects  to  an  interesting  level,  making  them  as 
completely  the  creatures  of  mould  and  measure,  as  if  God  had 
decreed  them,  even  in  morals  and  expression,  to  the  exquisite 
republican  equality  which  they  deny  to  none — who  have  a 
money  qualification  and  are  not  Irish  and  Catholic 

A  broad-faced,  brown-cheeked,  good-humored  looking  farmer 
approached  the  two,  and  addressing  Carter  by  name  as  an 
old  acquaintance,  turned  from  him  to  his  companion,  and  slap 
ping  him  upon  the  shoulder  with  all  the  familiarity  of  an  old 
acquaintance,  spoke  to  him  in  some  such  language  as  the  fol 
lowing. 

"  Look  ye,  now,  stranger,  they  tell  me  your  name's  Varnon, 
and  that  you're  a  lawyer,  and  I  reckon  it's  true  what  they  tell 
me.  You're  a  friend  of  his,  Ben  Carter  —  eh?" 

Carter  answered  by  introducing  Vernon  more  formally  to 
the  interrogator,  whom  Vernon  himself  satisfied  on  the  subject 
of  his  other  interrogatories. 

"Well,  Harry  Varnon,"  said  the  old  man  in  continuation, 
"I  like  your  face — by  the  hokey  but  I  do  —  and  without 
meaning  to  praise  you  to  your  teeth,  I  tell  you  you're  a  d — d 
smart-looking  fellow ;  and  I  want  to  give  you  some  law  busi 
ness  to  do  for  me  now,  before  the  court's  over  here  in  Ray 
mond." 

"  Your  business  is  his,  Mr.  Shippen,"  said  Carter,  anticipating 
the  reply  of  Vernon,  "  and  I  think  that  my  friend  will  do  jus 
tice  to  himself  and  you  at  the  same  time." 

"  Let  the  boy  talk  for  himself,  Carter.  I  want  to  hear  him 
talk  since  I'm  going  to  hire  him,  you  see,  to  talk  for  me  in  the 
courthouse.  By  his  face,  he  ought  to  have  a  mighty  free 
speech,  and  that's  the  sort  of  thing  you  see  that  will  best  suit 
me  at  this  present.  What  say  you,  Harry  Varnon,  are  you 
willing  to  argify  a  little  business  for  me  in  a  mighty  bad  case." 

The  other  professed  his  willingness  to  do  what  he  could  for 
his  client  to  the  best  of  his  ability,  and  in  such  a  style  as  to 
satisfy  the  old  man  that  he  was  not  likely  to  prove  a  bunglei 
in  his  business. 


70  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

*•  That's  your  sort,"  said  he ;  "  and  now  look  ye,  Varnon. 
The  law  is  agin  me  here  for  licking  a  d — d  Yankee  trader,  that 
8;iid  something  sassy  to  my  darter  Nelly.  She's  only  a  child, 
Master  Varnon,  a  leetle  over  thirteen  years  old,  and  couldn't  'a 
meant  any  harm  in  what  she  did ;  and  if  there  was  any  harm 
in  it,  d'ye  see,  why  I  was  the  only  one  to  blame  in  the  matter. 
]  gin  her  a  five- dollar  bill  to  go  to  Watson's  store  to  buy  some 
little  truck,  and  he  said  the  bill  was  a  false  one  and  a  counter 
fcit,  and  spoke  so  to  the  child  as  if  she  meant  to  cheat  him  — 
and  she  a  gal  too  —  that  I  got  angry  as  a  buster,  and  went 
straight  off'  and  mounted  him.  1  pulled  him  out  from  his  shop, 
and  it  wasn't  at  all  sheepish — nay,  'twas  rether  wolfish  —  the 
way  I  handled  him.  I  made  his  sides  ache,  I  tell  you.  Well, 
the  long  and  short  of  the  business,  then,  is  this :  instead  of 
coming  out  and  making  it  a  fight  after  his  own  fashion,  with 
any  we'pons,  jist  as  he  might  think  best  for  himself,  he  goes 
a-lawing  me  about  for  damages,  and  he's  put  down  his  bruises 
and  black  spots  at  five  thousand  dollars ;  as  if  his  laying  up  a 
week,  and  putting  a  mush  poultice  on  his  shins,  and  a  piece  of 
raw  beef  to  his  eyes,  should  have  cost  him  so  much  money. 
Well,  you're  right  to  laugh,  for  that's  the  true  state  of  the  case, 
and  now  what  do  you  think  you  can  do  witlj  it  ?" 

"  You  have  counsel  already  ?"  asked  Vernon. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  one  Graham,  here,  that  comes  from  Monticello ;  a 
mealy-mouthed  chap  that  don't  please  me  at  all ;  but  he  was 
the  best  I  could  get  to  do  the  business  when  I  wanted  it.  He 
answered  Perkins,  who  is  Watson's  lawyer,  step  by  step,  in  the 
law-papers  he  put  in ;  and  I  s'pose  did  that  part  of  the  business 
tolerable  well ;  but  then,  he  <*n't  talk,  Varnon ;  and  he  trim- 
bles  and  looks  afeard  when  the  other  lawyers  talk,  and  that 
vexes  me,  to  have  a  lawyer  that's  afeard  to  open  his  mouth  in 
my  business ;  and  I  wo'n't  have  him  talk  for  me  if  I  can  help 
it." 

"  But,  Mr.  Shippen,  I  can  not  think  to  supersede  Mr.  Graham 
in  this  business ;  it  is  against  the  courtesy  of  the  bar." 

"  There's  no  superseding  at  all.  Graham's  quite  willing  to 
get  somebody  to  help  him  ;  for,  look  you,  he  says  that  he  knows 
nothing  that  he  can  say  to  help  me.  He  says  they'll  prove 
everything  agin  me,  and  there's  no  sort  of  defence  that  he  cao 


HUMORS   OF   A    CLIENT.  71 

make.  Now,  lie  says,  if  I  bad  only  let  Watson  give  me  the 
first  clip,  he  could  defend  me  very  well ;  but  wouldn't  I  ha' 
been  a  blasted  fool  to  ha'  let  him,  when  everybody  knows  that 
a  first  clip  is  half  the  battle?  No — no  !  none  of  that  stuff  for 
me ;  it  may  be  law,  but  I  reckon  there's  no  reason  in  it — none 
that'll  sarve  a  man  here  in  Mississippi." 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  can  do  much  more  for  you  than  Gra 
ham,"  said  Vernon,  modestly ;  "  you,  at  least  know,  Mr.  Ship- 
pen,  that  the  law  favors  him  most  who  suffers  the  first  injury." 

"  You  can  talk,  Varnon,  and  that's  something  more  than  Gra 
ham  can  do.  You  can  tell  the  people  what  a  darned  skunk  of 
a  fellow  that  Watson  is,  to  go  and  scandalize  a  child  —  and  she 
a  gal  too  —  to  call  her  a  cheat  and  vilify  her  in  front  of  his 
shop ;  and  by  the  Eternal,  if  that  a'n't  provocation  and  injury 
enough  to  justify  any  father  for  licking  the  rapscallion  that 
does  it,  then  I  don't  know  any  sense  in  our  having  laws  at  all. 
Well,  then,  all  I  want  is  that  you  should  talk  your  mind  freely 
to  the  people  about  these  things.  I  know  well  enough,  that  by 
the  law-books,  a  man's  not  to  lick  his  neighbor  for  bad  words, 
ginerally  speaking ;  but  then,  you  see,  here's  a  case  different 
Here  the  bad  words  is  spoken  to  a  gal  child,  that  has  a  charac 
ter  to  lose,  and  there's  no  such  thing  as  standing  that ;  and  it 
does  seem  to  me  that  it's  right  to  make  a  monstrous  difference 
between  blackguarding  a  man  himself,  and  blackguarding  his 
darter.  Well,  Varnon,  you're  just  the  man  now,  to  hit  the 
skunk  hard  on  these  p'ints.  Do  you  score  him  now,  up  and 
down,  hip  and  thigh,  for  half  an  hour  —  half  an  hour  by  the 
watch — and  there's  a  clear  fifty  dollars  in  your  pocket.  Say 
the  word — only  half  an  hour  now — I  don't  want  a  minute 
more  ;  and  it's  a  bargain." 

Vernon  laughed  at  the  humor  of  the  proposition,  but  seemed 
disposed  to  hesitate  ;  when  Carter,  fearing  that  some  nice  point 
of  objection  might  suggest  itself  to  the  youth,  and  knowing  the 
importance  to  his  present  object  of  his  appearing  in  Raymond 
only  as  a  lawyer  seeking  practice,  immediately  closed  with  the 
offer  on  the  part  of  the  youth.  The  old  farmer,  however,  was 
not  so  well  satisfied. 

"  Let  Varnon  talk  for  himself,  Ben  Carter ;  he's  got  a  tongue 
of  his  own,  and  it  does  me  good  to  hear  him  use  it.  Com«, 


72  BORDER  BEAGLES, 

Varnon,  my  boy,  say  what  you'll  do.  I've  spoken  to  Graham 
a'ready,  and  lie  says  he's  willing.  It  mought  be  that  you  think 
he  a'n't ;  but  between  us,  he's  mighty  glad  to  get  the  trouble 
on  to  some  other  body's  shoulders,  for  he's  plainly  told  me  that 
it's  a  darned  black  and  blue  case,  all  agin  me,  and  he's  no  no 
tion  of  any  way  to  turn  it  about  to  my  benefit.  I'm  candid  you 
see —  I  don't  hide  nothing  from  you.  I  expect  to  sweat  a  little 
at  my  fingers'  ends  for  this  beating,  but,  by  the  hokey,  five 
thousand  dollars  will  swallow  me  and  all  my  substance,  and  you 
must  rub  that  down  to  a  mere  sarcumstance.  I'm  willing  to 
bleed  five  hundred,  but  the  other  is  quite  too  digging.  It'll 
plough  me  out  of  the  ground  to  raise  it ;  and  root  and  branch 
must  go  along  with  it.  A  good  talk  now,  that'll  show  what  a 
skunk  Watson  is,  and  what  a  shame  it  would  be  to  let  a  child 
—  a  gal  child  too  —  be  abused  by  such  a  varment,  and  called  a 
cheat,  and  vilified  as  if  she  was  a  bad  woman  at  the  foot  of 
Natchy  hill — .will  help  me  mightily,  and  I  don't  think  the  jury 
will  mind  the  law  so  much,  when  the  reason  and  the  right  of 
the  thing  is  so  clearly  in  my  hand.  Do  your  best,  my  chicken, 
and  the  money's  in  your  pocket." 

"  Did  I  understand  you  that  Watson  made  no  defence  V 

"  Took  his  beating  like  a  holy  martyr." 

"  What !  did  he  not  strike  a  blow  ?" 

"  Not  the  breath  of  one ;  he  jist  called  upon  the  people  to 
see  how  I  handled  him,  jist  as  if  he  had  a  liking  for  it.  That's 
the  worst  part  of  the  business  for  me,  so  Graham  says." 

"  I'll  close  with  you,  Mr.  Shippen.  I'll  plead  for  half  an 
hour." 

"  Jist  half  an  hour,  Varnon ;  do  it  well  and  stick  to  him  for 
that  time,  my  chicken,  and  by  the  hokey,  I  don't  want  a  min 
ute  more." 

"  I  will  do  it,"  repeated  the  youth,  rather  amused  with  the 
aspect  of  the  affair,  and  the  requisition  of  the  farmer ;  and  n  < 
so  hopeless  of  his  cause  as  Mr.  Graham  had  been.  From  thav 
very  feature,  last  related  in  the  case,  which  Graham  thought 
the  most  unfavorable,  the  quickwitted  Vernon  argued  the  very 
best  results ;  and  having  appointed  to  meet  Shippen  within  the 
hour,  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  Graham  and  confer  with 
him  on  the  business  so  far  as  it  had  gone,  the  stouthearted  de- 


HUMORS  OP  A   CLIENT.  78 

fendant  left  him  for  awhile,  as  fully  satisfied  with  the  proceed 
ing,  as  if  his  case  was  already  won.  He  was  one  of  those  wor 
thy  republicans  who  was  not  unwilling  to  pay  for  his  libertieo , 
and  the  right  to  speak  his  mind,  though  it  might  be  only  through 
the  lips  of  another,  was  one  of  those  rights  which  he  esteemed 
cheaply  paid  for  with  fifty  dollars  at  any  time. 

When  he  had  gone,  Carter  resumed  his  conference  with  Ver 
non,  which  related,  we  need  scarcely  say,  to  the  projected  mis 
sion  of  the  latter.  Other  items  of  intelligence  had  reached  him 
—  which  furnished  additional  clues  to  those  already  in  posses 
sion —  of  the  course  taken  5  his  flight  by  the  faithless  friend 
and  absconding  debtor ;  out  as  these  matters  are  destined  to 
have  their  distinct  development  in  the  regular  progress  of  the 
affair,  they  demand  none  of  our  attention  now. 

When  Vernon  entered  the  court-house  he  found  his  new  client 
awaiting  him  with  the  "  mealy-mouthed"  lawyer  Graham.  A 
few  moments  sufficed  to  put  Vernon  in  possession  of  all  the  facts 
so  far  as  their  litigated  character  had  become  apparent  to  the 
attorney  on  record.  During  the  course  of  his  narrative,  Graham 
did  not  scruple,  though  in  the  presence  of  Shippen,  to  declare 
his  utter  hopelessness  of  his  cause ;  a  sort  of  sincerity  which  is 
of  very  doubtful  propriety,  since  it  never  yet  discouraged  a  lit 
igant,  and  has  often  ruined  a  very  worthy  practitioner.  It  was 
amusing  enough  to  Vernon  to  survey  the  countenance  of  Ship- 
pen  as  these  opinions  fell  from  the  lips  of  his  lawyer.  How  he 
would  lift  his  eyebrows,  and  roll  his  tongue  within  his  jawc, 
and  then  turn  away  exclaiming — 

"Never  you  mind,  Charley  Graham — never  you  mind- 
there  are  more  eggs  to  be  hatched  this  week,  than  was  ever 
laid  by  your  mother's  best  hen ;  and  some  of  the  chickens,  let 
me  tell  you,  will  be  long  spurred  before  they  chip  the  shell. 
Only  half  an  hour,  Harry  Varnon  ;  only  half  an  hour,  my  boy ; 
but  let  it  be  well  talked." 

At  length,  in  its  due  place  upon  the  docket,  the  long-expected 
civil  case  of  Watson  v.  Shippen,  sounding  in  damages  of  assault 
and  battery,  was  called,  and  the  several  parties  responded  ac 
cordingly  With  the  first  sounds  of  his  name,  Shippen  perched 
Lho&elf  behind  Vernon,  and  renewed  his  exhortations  arid  his 

4 


74  BORDER    IJTCAni  -^ 

promises.  The  plaintiff,  Watson,  was  also  present  —  a  huge 
mammoth-feeding  sort  of  person,  half  as  large  again  as  Slup-.rM 
land  having  the  appearance  of  one,  who,  if  lie  had  not  utterly 
lacked  the  spirit,  could  have  annihilated,  or  at  least,  have  swal 
lowed  his  assailant.  His  downcast  look,  halting,  hesitating  bui 
sly  manner,  sufficiently  denoted  the  cold,  calculating  and  cow 
ardly  wretch  —  such  as  Shippen  had  described  him  —  whocouia 
wantonly  insult  the  young  girl,  whose  indignant  father  he  dared 
not  face,  and  could  not  contend  with. 

His  attorney,  Perkins,  opened  the  case  with  considerable 
spirit,  passed  slightingly  over  the  provocation  by  which  Watson 
had  drawn  upon  him  the  wrath  of  the  defendant,  and  dwelt  with 
proper  details  of  law  and  fact,  upon  the  enormity  of  the  outrage 
which  the  latter  had  committed  ;  described  the  cruel  manner  in 
which  his  client  had  been  dragged  from  his  dwelling  into  the 
public  thoroughfare  and  beaten  by  the  big-fisted  pugilist,  whom, 
in  his  passionate  exaggeration,  he  made  a  giant,  while  the  plain 
tiff  was  diminished  to  a  feeble  and  delicate  person,  whose 
Christian  forbearance,  while  receiving  the  injuries  complained 
of,  was  the  subject  of  most  unbounded,  and,  it  may  be  added, 
most  unmerited  eulogiurn.  After  this,  it  seemed  something  of 
an  anti-climax  to  show  that  a  physician's  aid  was  called  in  to 
heal  his  hurts ;  particularly  as  the  cross-examination  determine d 
the  extent  of  this  attendance  to  be  little  over  three  days ;  and 
the  medicaments  employed  to  be  of  little  more  cost  than  "  eyo 
of  newt  and  toe  of  frog."  A  pea  poultice  was  shown  to  be 
one  of  the  most  successful  applications  of  Doctor  Shinbone, 
and  the  application  of  the  i  ,ncet,  his  most  serious  operation. 
With  these  proofs  and  the  commentary  which  he  made  with  so 
much  unction  upon  them,  Mr.  Attorney  Perkins,  was  willing  to 
close  his  side  of  the  case. 

"You  see,"  said  Graham,  in  a  half-whisper  to  Verne:  ;  "  it  it 
as  I  have  told  you.  He  has  proved  everything,  and  ;<ir  caso 
is  to  be  made  out  of  his  witnesses  only." 

The  words,  spoken  however  slightly,  were  audible  to  li 
keen  ears  of  the  defendant  behind,  who,  smarting  with  the  de 
clamation  of  Perkins,  retorted,  before  Vernon  could  speak. 

"  And  a  good  case,  too,  Charley  Graham,  if  a  man  had  it  in 
him  to  bring  out.  Up  and  at  him,  Harry  Virnon,  and  giv? 


NEW   MODE   OP   ARGUING   A    CASE.  75 

him  enough  of  it.     By  the  hokey,  Charley  Graham,  you  t-dk 
as  if  your  liver  was  all  cream  color." 

A  sly  twinkle  of  Vernon's  eyes  was  perceptible  to  the  court, 
as,  arising  from  his  seat,  he  coolly  took  out  his  watch,  and  noted 
&-;  precise  minute  before  he  commenced  his  operations.  The 
targain,  meanwhile,  which  Shippen  had  made  with  the  strange 
lawyer,  to  talk  for  him  half  an  hour  only,  had  got  into  consid 
erable  circulation,  chiefly  with  the  assistance  of  the  defendant 
himself;  and  the  curiosity  was  general,  not  less  to  hear  the 
young  and  handsome  stranger,  than  to  see  what  he  could  make 
of  his  limits. 

Yernon  did  not  belie  public  expectation.  Cool  in  temper 
rapid  in  reflection,  and  singularly  fluent  of  speech,  he  com- 
tranced  his  task  by  reviewing  briefly  the  evidence  which  had 
been  given.  He  dwelt  with  much  more  emphasis  than  Perkins 
on  the  gross  insult  which  had  been  offered  to  a  young  child,  of 
good  parents,  and  one  of  a  sex,  which  needed,  from  the  delica 
cy  of  its  structure,  the  kindness  and  indulgence  of  man ;  and 
could  not  live  either  in  his  harshness  or  disesteem.  This  harsh 
ness,  he  proceeded  to  show,  was  quite  hostile  to  that  claim 
which  had  been  so  eloquently  made  by  the  opposite  counsel, 
in  behalf  of  the  Christian  meekness  of  his  client ;  this  meekness 
heing  the  result  of  his  cowardice,  and  not  of  his  Christianity ; 
since  it  was  very  visible  in  his  encounter  with  the  man,  and 
was  singularly  wanting  to  his  deportment  in  his  interview  with 
the  child.  "  It  is  very  well,"  proceeded  Vernon,  "  to  insist 
upon  the  integrity  of  the  laws,  to  prevent  the  brutality  of  vio 
lence,  to  compel  the  strong  arm  to  desist  from  strife,  and  refer 
to  the  authorities  assigned  by  society  for  such  purposes,  to  re 
dress  its  wrongs;  but  there  are  some  cases,"  he  said,  "where 
outraged  Humanity  becomes  a  rebel ;  and  when,  to  wait  for  the 
dilatory  process  of  the  laws,  might  be  to  ruin  her  for  ever.  IL 
all  cases,  where  the  reputation  or  the  virtue  of  a  woman  —  a 
wife,  a  sister,  or  a  daughter — are  at  stake,  the  sudden  blow  of 
the  outraged  relative  is  a  blow  struck  for  Virtue  herself,  and  in 
compliance  with  laws  which  are  infinitely  more  sacred  than 
any  that  can  be  framed  by  man.  And,  so  universal,"  he  con 
tinued,  "  are  these  laws,  that  I  can  not  bring  myself  to  believe 
that  his  honor,  who  now  sits  upon  the  bench,  and  you,  gentle- 


76  BORDER  BEAGLES. 

men  of  the  jury,  or  any  man  of  proper  spirit  and  feeling1,  could 
forbear,  in  like  circumstances,  to  do  as  my  client  has  done.  Ay, 
gentlemen,  even  if  the  place  of  sanctuary  which,  the  ruffian  had 
chosen  for  his  retreat,  had  been  the  altar  of  God  itself,  ratiier 
than  the  counter  behind  which  he  sells  his  wares,  it  would  not 
nave  shielded  him  from  your  honest  anger,  any  more  than  the 
latter  place  has  protected  Watson  from  the  just  vengeance  of 
a  father. 

"  But  I  do  not  rely  only  on  these  points,  gentlemen  of  tha 
jury.  There  are  others  scarcely  less  important  to  be  dwelt 
upon.  Watson  has  come  into  court  clamoring  for  justice.  ! 
should  say  he  has  already  had  it  —  that  never  was  justice  mads 
so  clearly  manifest  as  when  Shippcn  punished  him  for  the  defa 
mation  of  his  daughter.  He  founds  his  claim,  as  every  man 
must,  who  comes  into  court,  upon  his  strict  compliance  with  thb 
laws.  But  his  eloquent  counsel  has  not  deemed  it  sufficient  to 
confine  himself  to  this  modest  claim.  He  not  only  asserts  him 
to  have  borne  the  part  of  a  good  citizen,  but  of  a  most  becoming 
Christian.  '  Look  at  his  meekness  under  stripes,'  says  Mr.  Per 
kins,  '  and  you  have  the  very  deportment  of  the  old  apostles  un 
der  like  indignities.'  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  it  is  a  new  doc 
trine  to  be  taught  here  —  this  meekness  under  blows  —  this 
calm,  Christian  toleration  of  injuries  —  this  patient  bending  of 
the  shoulders  to  any  assault.  But  the  counsel  has  himself 
proved  quite  too  much  for  his  case  and  client.  He  has  shown 
you,  by  the  evidence,  that,  so  far  from  being  meek  under  his 
suffering,  he,  at  the  very  moment,  called  upon  the  bystanders  to 
witness  —  not  his  courage  in  resenting  injury  —  the  courage  o£ 
proper  manhood,  which  always  forbears  insult,  and  always  re 
pels  it — but  the  blows  which  he  submitted  to,  that  they  might 
be  counted  down  and  paid  for  in  money.  This  base  creature, 
gentlemen,  this  pretended  Cliristian,  had  no  abhorrence  of  the 
shame  to  which  he  was  subjected ;  had  no  consciousness  of  the 
disgrace  and  degradation ;  had,  it  seems,  no  actual  feeling  of 
the  blows,  while  he  consoled  himself  with  the  reflection  that 
they  were  to  be  paid  for ;  that  he  should  get  money  for  every 
stroke ;  th^t  his  blood  was  to  be  weighed  in  an  opposite  scale 
against  five  thousand  dollars  of  my  client.  He  comes  into  court 
not  for  justice,  but  for  money  lie  comes  not  to  sustain  the 


NEW   MODE   OF    ARGUING   A    CASE.  77 

»aws,  for  lie  himself  violated  them,  when  he  slandered  the  inno 
cent  daughter  of  this  old  man ;  but  to  speculate,  like  a  misera 
ble  pedler,  upon  what  may  be  made  out  of  another's  violation 
of  them.  Does  such  a  man  come  into  court  with  clean  hands  ? 
Does  he  not  come  into  court  with  the  basest  of  all  base  feelings 
in  his  soul  ?  And  would  not  such  a  man  as  this,  who  thus  bar 
ters  his  blood  for  money  as  freely  as  another  Judas,  barter  his 
very  God  for  a  far  less  sum  ?  I  have  no  sort  of  doubt  of  thio 
myself.  I  believe,  as  conscientiously  as  I  do  that  I  now  stand 
before  you,  that  neither  your  lives  nor  your  honors  could  be 
safe  in  such  hands,  were  it  profitable  for  him  to  dispose  of  them, 
and  were  the  danger  not  too  great  for  one  endowed  with  such  a 
dastard  spirit. 

"  Let  us  go  back  to  that  chastisement  of  which  he  complains, 
the  dishonor  of  which  he  thinks  can  be  all  removed  by  five 
thousand  of  my  client's  dollars ;  and  I,  too,  will  pray  yon 
to  give  as  close  attention  to  it,  as  was  prayed  for  by  my 
worthy  and  eloquent  opponent,  though  with  a  far  different  ob 
ject.  He  called  upon  you  to  admire  the  meekness  of  this  new 
apostle  come  down  upon  earth.  Your  Christian  feelings  were 
exhorted  to  take  pattern  after  this  blessed  example  of  Christian 
forbearance.  Behold  this  lamb  under  the  furious  claws  of  this 
lion  going  about  seeking  what  he  may  devour.  See  how  he 
prays  for  his  cruel  assailant.  Such  was  the  picture  of  my  able 
brother.  Let  me  pray  you  to  give  as  much  heed  to  one  that  I 
shall  draw.  See,  then,  this  miserable  poltroon,  submitting  to 
the  assaults  of  one  to  whom,  in  physical  capacity,  he  is  a  giant 
—  hear  him  how  he  shouts  to  the  people.  He  calls  upon  all 
around  to  see  that  ho  strikes  no  blow  himself — he  begs  them  to 
take  particular  account  of  the  number  that  he  receives.  When 
jeered  by  the  spectators  for  such  tame  and  unbecoming  sub 
mission,  he  grins,  with  a  miserable  delight,  even  while  his  foe 
is  kic>  mg  him.  'Never  mind,  he  shall  pay  for  this,'  is  the  an 
swer  that  he  makes;  'for  all  these  kicks  I  shall  have  coppers !' 
His  enemy  wrings  his  nose  —  'Ah!'  he  cries  with  a  miserable 
chuckle,  '  that  shall  cost  him  a  thousand  dollars.  Let  him  kick, 
he  will  have  to  pay  for  all !'  And  this,  gentlenven,  is  the  sort 
of  person,  the  Christian,  of  whom  we  hear  a  eulogy  that  would 
rank  him  idth  any  of  the  apostles  that  ever  was  Saved  aliva  in 


78  BUKDEU    BEAGLKts. 

the  cause  of  God  and  of  mankind.  To  my  thinking,  so  far  from 
calling  him  a  Christian,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  I  can  scarcely 
count  him  human.  There  is  so  much  of  cold  insensibility  about 
this  creature  —  something  so  utterly  bloodless,  yet  so  malignant, 
that,  were  it  not  at  the  same  time  so  very  base,  I  should  esteem 
it  devilish,  and  worthy  of  Lucifer  himself. 

"  But,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  I  am  not  yet  done  with  this 
part  of  my  subject.  I  would  like  to  place  before  you  the  evil 
effect  of  encouraging  a  prosecution,  such  as  the  present,  sound 
ing  in  individual  damages  ;  and  the  ground  which  I  take  for  my 
objection  is  in  the  very  fact  upon  which  Mr.  Perkins  rests  his 
strongest  argument,  namely,  the  patience  with  which  this  crea 
ture  submitted  to  be  beaten.  This  very  patience  under  blows, 
I  hold  to  be  disgraceful  to  the  manhood  of  the  person,  as  it 
would  be  to  the  manhood  of  the  nation  that  submitted  to  them 
tamely;  and  to  pay  him  for  thus  submitting,  will,  gentlemen, 
be  paying  a  bounty  to  the  rankest  cowardice  that  ever  de 
graded  man.  Every  dollar  which  you  give  to  this  mean  crea 
ture  for  this  affair,  is  neither  more  nor  less  than  a  bounty  to  the 
coward ;  the  effect  of  which  must  be  to  raise  a  brood  of  cow 
ards  throughout  the  country.  We  want  no  cowards  in  this 
country.  Our  object  should  be  to  discourage  them,  to  with 
draw  from  them  the  countenance  of  the  courts,  and  the  ap 
proval,  even  indirectly,  of  all  honest  men.  We  punish  the 
coward  in  the  field,  yet  give  a  bounty  to  him  in  time  of  peace. 
What  a  monstrous  contradiction  —  a  contradiction  not  to  be 
reconciled  by  any  resort  to  common  justice  or  common  sense. 
Let  us  punish  them  alike  in  every  case — refuse  them  counte 
nance  in  ordinary  life,  and  never  trust  them  in  the  field.  Do 
not  suppose,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  that  I  am  disposed  by  these 
remarks,  to  encourage  the  wrong-doer  in  his  violence,  and  to 
drive  the  weak  and  unoffending  from  protection.  Had  this 
man,  Watson,  who  is  neither  weak  nor  unoffending,  made  good 
fight,  and  been  overcome  after  an  honest  struggle,  by  Shippen, 
I  should  have  been  among  the  first  to  say  that  he  should  have 
had  a  few  hundred  dollars  damages;  but,  under  existing  cir 
cumstances,  it  is  my  firm  conviction  that  you  will  give  him  only 
such  damages  as  will  carry  the  costs  of  prosecution,  and  dismiss 
him  from  the  presence  of  *he  court  with  the  unmitigated  scorn 


NEW    MODE   OF    ARGUING    A    CASE.  79 

of  all  Avho  have  listened  to  the  dishonoring  testimony,  which  he 
has  this  day,  in  his  own  case,  produced  against  himself." 

The  half  hour  had  elapsed,  and  Vernon  sat  down  amidst  » 
half-suppressed  murmur  of  applause.  Shippen,  as  soon  as  h( 
had  touched  his  seat,  jumped  up,  clapped  him  upon  his  shoul 
der,  and  exclaimed,  so  as  to  be  heard  by  all  around — 

"At  him  agin,  Harry,  only  for  a  quarter  more,  and  you  shall 
have  another  fifty." 

The  tears  were  in  the  eyes  of  the  old  man,  and  the  fervency 
of  his  expression,  the  frank,  feeling  tones  of  his  voice,  so  oppo 
site  as  he  appeared  in  every  respect  to  his  opponent,  Watson, 
moved  the  sympathy  of  the  whole  court  in  his  favor.  But  Ve/- 
non  declined  his  offer.  He  felt  that  he  had  made  the  proper 
impression,  and  that  anything  more  would  only  tend  to  weaken 
and  impair  it.  He  was  one  of  those  fortunate  men,  of  whom 
there  are  so  few  in  our  hemisphere,  whether  in  the  senate,  the 
forum,  or  the  pulpit,  who  know  where  to  stop ;  and,  though 
flattered  by  the  obvious  effect  of  his  argument,  so  novel,  and  in 
some  respects  ingenious  —  of  which  we  have  given  however,  a 
very  feeble  report  —  he  firmly  resisted  all  the  persuasions  of 
Shippen  to  renew  the  speech. 

This  single  fact  was  not  without  its  effect,  upon  the  minds  of 
those  present.  That  a  lawyer  should  refuse  a  fae  for  a  matter 
seemingly  so  easy  of  execution,  and  that  he  should  resist — a 
more  difficult  matter  with  young  lawyers  —  the  temptation  still 
to  talk  when  the  auditors  were  willing  to  hear  —  were  events 
to  which  our  southwestern  people  are  not  habituated.  The 
confidence  which  his  refusal  indicated  in  what  had  been  already 
said,  had  its  influence  also.  They  jury  retired  from  the  box, 
but  before  the  verdict  was  returned  —  which,  par  parenthese, 
gave  only  nominal  damages  as  Vernon  had  suggested  —  Carter 
entered  the  court-room  suddenly,  and  in  a  whisper  summoned 
the  young  lawyer  away. 

"  The  governor  is  at  Mrs.  Baxter's,  and  would  like  to  speak 
with  you  a  while." 

Shippen  would  have  detained  him ,  and  released  him  only 
with  a  promise  that  he  should  go  home  and  spend  a  night  with 
him,  and  see  his  wife  Susan,  and  Bella,  the  little  girl  who  had 
Heen  the  innocent  cause  of  the  trial,  anrl  his  plough  oxen,  and  a 


80  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

fine  blood  mare  that  he  had  just  got  from  Georgia,  and  a  thou 
sand  other  matters,  most  of  which,  at  that  moment,  Vernon 
might  have  had  for  the  asking. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

POLITICIANS    IN    COUNCIL — ESPIONAGE  —  GLIMPSES    OF 
OUTLAWRY. 

"I  do  accuse  thee  here 
To  be  a  man,  factious  and  dangerous, 
A  sower  of  sedition  in  the  state, 
A  turbulent  and  discontented  spirit 
Which  I  will  prove." — Sejanus,  BEN  JONSON 

LET  us  return  to  the  shed-room  in  the  shop  of  Hawkins, 
•vhere  we  left  our  quondam  friend. the  soi-disant  actor,  carousing 
with  his  new  companion,  Saxon.  Hawkins  had  left  the  two  for 
a  while,  and  during  his  absence  employed  himself  no  less  busi 
ly  than  did  they,  and  possibly  to  more  useful  purpose.  The 
£0od  liquor,  aided  by  the  arts  of  Saxon — who  had  his  own 
policy  in  it  —  had  been  productive  of  its  customary  effect  upon 
the  erratic  youth,  who  was  now  plainly  in  the  seventh  heavei* 
of  theatrical  hallucination.  He  treated  his  comrade  to  the 
choicest  selections  of  the  old  fathers  of  dramatic  literature,  and 
mouthed  in  the  becoming  style  of  the  best  modern  artists.  Now 
he  gave  imitations  of  Kean,  excelling  in  the  spasmodic  hoarse 
ness  of  his  utterance  —  in  the  fury  of  the  Pythia  without  her 
inspiration — now  the  lugubrious  winnings  of  Cooper,  when  cle 
clining  toward  the  fifth  act;  and  now  the  guttural  growl  oi 
Forrest,  when,  with  singular  bad  taste,  he  imitates  even  the 
death-rattle  in  the  throat  of  the  obese  Vitellius.  With  much 
talent,  and  a  good  deal  of  taste  for  the  profession  to  which  he 
so  desperately  inclined,  the  want  of  a  proper  education  in 
schools  furnishing  intrinsic  standards,  left  Horsey  entirely  open 
to  that  worst  of  all  misfortunes  to  talent  in  any  country — and 
one  which  is  the  particular  evil  in  ours — the  formation  ^f  hir 


POLITICIANS   IN   COUNCH  81 

style  and  judgment  upon  models  essentially  erratic,  and  unreg 
ulated  by  any  just  principle.  To  make  a  point,  rather  than  to 
act  well  the  part,  was  too  much  his  desire,  as  it  seems  the  pre 
vailing  ambition  with  all  our  Daggerwoods ;  and  in  the  course 
of  a  brief  hoar,  Saxon  was  treated  to  a  dozen  different  readings 
of  all  the  disputed  passages  in  Macbeth,  Hamlet,  Richard,  and 
the  rest. 

It  was  curious  to  see  with  what  industry  the  youth  had  accu 
mulated  authorities  on  Shakspere.  He  had  Gifford,  Malone, 
Steevens,  Seymour,  Rowe,  Farmer,  and  some  thirty  or  forty 
more  at  his  finger-ends,  and  could  we  look  at  this  moment  into 
the  little  closet  which  was  assigned  him  as  a  sleeping-room  at 
his  father's  house,  we  should  see  the  works  of  all  these  persons, 
accumulated  on  the  table  by  his  couch;  he  being  also  one  of 
those  erring  persons  who  read  by  night  in  bed. 

These  books  were  all  he  had  left  to  show  for  the  thousands  he 
had  dissipated  of  his  father's  income ;  and  whether  his  outlay 
had  been  a  profitable  one  or  not,  would  have  been  of  no  diffi 
cult  decision,  were  the  father  chosen  to  resolve  the  question, 
To  do  the  youth  justice,  however,  it  may  be  added,  that  he  had 
learned  something  of  good  from  the  schools,  however  erring  and 
even  vicious,  through  which  he  had  gone.  A  knowledge  of 
books,  and  even  of  men,  infinitely  beyond  that  usually  in  the 
possession  of  persons  in  his  secluded  home,  had  been  the  result 
of  his  Avanderings;  and  the  roughness  of  the  country  clown  had 
been  fortunately  exchanged  for  a  manner,  which,  though  it 
might  be  sometimes  swaggering  and  obtrusive,  was  seldom 
rude,  and  never  brutal  or  insolent.  As  a  further  set-off  to  his 
deficiencies,  Tom  Horsey  was  a  good-natured,  generous  fellow, 
who  readily  forgave  injuries,  conciliated  friends,  and  took  the 
world  always,  as  the  world  is  required  to  take  its  wives,  for 
better  or  worse.  "  It's  a  damned  bad  world,"  Tom  was  in  tLe 
habit  of  saying  over  his  cups,  •"  that  would  not  be  content  to 
take  him  too  on  the  same  terms." 

He  did  the  world  injustice,  however,  as  Saxon  strove  busily 
to  convince  him.  The  cool,  wily  outlaw,  for  such  he  was,  lis 
tened  patiently  to  all  the  youth's  recitations,  and  even  encour 
aged  him  to  continue  them  by  suggesting  the  quotations ;  but, 
at  decent  intervals,  he  would  contrive  to  insinuate  a  side  que& 


b'  liUKDEH   BEAGLES. 

tion  touching  other  matters  and  in  relation  to  persons,  }:*y  which 
he  contrived,  in  the  overflow  of  the  youth's  garrulity,  to  get 
from  him  everything  within  his  knowledge  in  regard  to  his 
father's  concerns,  and  those  of  Carter  his  lodger,  and  Vernon 
his  guest.  Some  particular  interest  seemed,  in  his  mind,  to 
lang  over  the  probable  proceedings  of  the  latter;  and  all  his 
remarks,  even,  when  he  spoke  of  playing  —  the  topic  on  which 
Horsey  could  always  be  commanded  —  were  calculated  to  fill 
the  latter  with  the  persuasion  that  Vernon  was  about  to  go  up 
the  country. 

"  If  he  does  then,  Saxon,  by  the  pipers,  I  must  pay  for  the 
music;  that  is  to  say,  I  must  treat  according  to  the  bet  between 
us  —  for  then,  I  shall  take  it  for  granted  it  is  as  you  say;  and 
he's  going  up  to  join  that  booby  Tilton's  company  —  though 
he's  but  a  poor  codling  if  he  does.  That  fellow,  Tilton,  is  the 
merest  dolt  and  dunderhead,  if  you  believe  me,  that  ever  bowed 
to  an  audience.  What  the  devil  can  he  hope  to  play  himself? 
and  as  for  his  management  —  management  indeed  !  'A  fico  for 
the  phrase' — the  thing  can't  answer,  Mr.  Saxon." 

"  Perhaps  not,  Mr.  Horsey,  yet  what  is  the  poor  fellow  to  do? 
'Young  ravens  must  have  food' — you  know  the  quotation?" 
^  "  Ay,  ay,  *  mine  ancient,'  are  you  there  1  But  let  that  humor 
pass  !  It  is  my  doubt  that  this  chap  Tilton  is  but  a  crow ; — 
and  will  never  get  his  corn  in  this  field.  If  he  can,  God  speed 
him,  I  say,  and  help  him  to  a  better  mind  and  finer  figure  — 
matters  in  which  he  needs  all  the  help  that  God  and  man  can 
give  him.  As  for  the  figure,  I  would  not  be  his  tailor  for  all 
the  cloth  —  there  would  be  more  cutting  to  be  done  on  the  mar. 
than  the  stuff.  What  I  chafe  at  is  his  chance  of  failure,  which 
is  so  great  —  for  failure  in  a  new  scheme,  throws  back  the 
period  and  the  prospect  of  success ;  and  the  thing,  which  in 
g.md  hands  might,  nay  must,  be  successful,  would,  I  am  free  to 
Uke  another  bet,  be  sure  to  fail  in  his." 

'/  But  if  he  gets  good  actors  to  begin  with,  Mr.  Horsey." 

Ay,  that  alters  the  case,  but  when  did  you  ever  know  a  fool 
choose  wise  help  1  It  is  scarce  a  thing  to  be  hoped  for,  how 
ever  much  desired." 

"  What  of  this  young  fellow,  Vernon,  if  1 «  be  one  of  th? 
company  1"  insinuated  Saxon. 


POLITICIAN    l.\    COUNCIL. 

"You  know  my  thought  on  that  point.  Dad  says  he's  a 
lawyer,  and  he  as  good  as  told  rne  the  same  thing  himself.  I'll 
look  into  the  business  when  I  go  home.  But,  let  him  be  as  you 
think,  and  still  I  can  say  nothing  of  Til  ton's  choice.  Harry 
Vernon  may  be  a  smart  chap  enough,  and  certainly  looks  like 
one,  but  the  stage  requires  something  more  than  that.  Is  he  a 
reader,  say  you ;  has  he  discretion  of  points ;  knows  he  his 
author ;  knows  he  his  audience ;  and  to  sum  up  all  in  little,  has 
he  the  divine  gift,  the  born  intelligence  which  makes  the  actor 
a  born  actor,  as  completely  as  the  poet  is  a  born  poet,  if  one  at 
all?  These  are  the  requisites,  Master  Brook,  and  a  fellow 
may  be  smart  at  law  and  smart  at  physic,  who  would  show  but 
a  dull  ass  upon  the  stage ;  as  I  have  seen  a  chap  make  a  fine 
speech  at  muster  grounds  from  a  stump,  who  sat  a  horse  like  a 
jackdaw.  To  speak  plainly,  though  I  would  not  have  it  reach 
Harry's  ears,  my  best  reason  for  doubting  his  being  an  actor  is 
that  I  believe  he  has  no  turn,  no  talent  for  the  stage.  I  like 
Harry  so  much  already,  that  I  should  be  sorry  to  see  him  fail." 

"But  why  not  join  Tilton  yourself?" 

"  Ah,  Saxon,  your  question  takes  me  all  aback.  If  it  were 
not  this  d — d  fool  Tilton,  who  will  spoil  everything,  and,  like 
others  who  are  as  great  fools  as  himself,  though  probably  better 
actors,  he  will  be  casting  himself  in  all  the  first  characters.  If 
I  could  be  sure — " 

The  sentence  in  which  he  was  probably  about  to  show  the 
weakness  of  his  heart  in  its  yearnings  toward  the  old  vanities 
which  he  had  so  recently  and  solemnly  renounced,  was  cut  short 
by  the  sudden  entrance  of  Hawkins. 

"Horsey,"  he  cried  on  entrance,  "I  am  afraid  we  shall  lose 
that  bet  with  you.  I  have  just  got  away  from  the  courthouse, 
where  I  left  your  friend  Vernon  in  full  argument." 

"  The  devil  you  did.  Said  I  not,  said  I  not !  But  what's 
the  business  —  what's  the  case  —  murder,  rape,  burglary,  bat 
tery?" 

"  Battery,  battery !  He  defends  old  Shippen  against  Watson, 
whom  he  drubbed  for  insulting  little  Bella,  his  daughter.  Wat 
son  got  no  more  than  he  deserved,  and  your  man  Vernon's 
serving  him  like  all  the  world.  I  think  the  jury  will  hardly 
singe  Shippen's  skirts,  though  Watson  thought  to  smoke  him  tc 


84  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

the  tune  of  two  or  three  thousand  dollars.  Vernon's  put  a  new 
color  on  the  colt,  and  people  who  thought  him  rather  black 
when  he  was  first  carried  into  court,  now  look  upon  him  as 
a  rathsr  pretty  cream.  He'll  get  off  slick  and  easy ;  that  Ver 
non's  a  smart  fellow  " 

"  By  the  ghost  of  Caesar,  but  I  must  hear  Harry,  I  must. 
What  say  you,  Mr.  Saxon,  will  you  go  along?  what  say  you, 
Hawkins  ?" 

An  expressive  glance  of  the  eye,  which  the  latter  gave  to 
Saxon,  led  him  to  decline  the  invitation,  and  Hawkins  pleading 
business,  the  actor  set  off  alone.  He  had  scarcely  taken  his 
departure  when  Hawkins,  in  a  hurried  and  somewhat  agitated 
manner,  taking  Saxon  farther  into  the  apartment,  and  closing 
the  inner  door,  remarked  — 

"  Would  you  believe  it,  Saxon ;  the  governor  has  just  got  in 
from  below." 

"  Ah,  indeed  ;  he  comes  alone  I" 

"  Yes,  and  has  gone  to  Mother  Baxter's.  But  you  take  it 
very  coolly.  Will  you  not  be  off?" 

"  Why  should  I  take  it  otherwise.  I  know  not  that  I  have 
anything  to  fear  from  his  coming,"  was  the  calm  reply. 

"  How  !  said  you  not  that  you  knew  of  advisers  having  g  jne 
to  him  from  Alabama  of  that  d  —  d  ugly  business  of  Grafton; 
and  of  your  course  from  the  Black  Warrior,  across  to  Missis 
sippi." 

"  Yes !  But  this  is  no  trouble  to  me  here.  These  advisers 
tell  of  my  aiming  for  the  Yazoo,  but  nothing  of  my  being  so 
low  as  this.  Raymond  is  the  last  place  where  he  would  think 
to  find  me." 

"  What  can  he  come  for  then  V 

"  That  is  a  secret  I  should  like  to  fathom.  Can't  we  contrive 
it,  Hawkins.  You  have  a  room  at  this  old  woman's  ?" 

"  Yes :  but  it's  monstrous  dangerous.  It  is  risking  every 
thing." 

"  True ;  and  there  are  cases  where  everything  must  be  risked, 

if  anything  is  to  be  saved ;  and  this  is  one  of  them.     It  is  im- 

:  portant  to  find  out  how  much  of  our  secret  they  know.     If  they 

have  a  list  of  names  in  Mississippi,  the  owners  of  thorn   twist 

take  tracks  for  Texas  without  more  delay.     There  i*  no  wiving 


POLITICIANS   IN   COUNCIL.  85 

them  else,  and  i  misdoubt  that  this  'fellow  Vcmou  is  employes 
on   some   business   above  against  us,   which,   it    is  absolutely 
t  necessary  that  \ve  should  gain  a  knowledge  of." 

"  But  this  pleading  speaks  against  it.  The  youth  seems 
really  nothing  more  than  a  young  beginner  at  the  law  on  his 
first  circuit." 

"  That  may  be,  and  there  is  no  good  reason  why  a  young 
lawyer  should  not  now  and  then  try  his  hand  at  a  more  profit 
able  business.  A  governor's  proclamation,  with  a  reward  of 
two  or  three  thousand  dollars,  is  no  bad  inducement  to  a  con 
fident  youth  to  try  the  capture  of  an  outlaw.  I  must  see  more 
of  this  youth  and  more  of  the  governor  before  I  leave 
them ;  and  the  long  and  the  short  of  the  matter  is,  that  we 
go  to  your  room  at  once.  He  is  even  now,  you  say,  at  Mother 
Baxter's." 

"Even  now  —  and  more  —  another  matter  of  which  I  forgot 
to  speak  —  Carter  has  been  with  him  ever  since  you  came." 

"  And  Vernon  lodges  with  Carter  !  see  you  not ;  can  you 
doubt,  Hawkins  ?  If  I  do,  it  is  only  the  more  resolutely  to  see 
how  far  they  are  linked  together,  and  to  ascertain  their  objects 
truly.  We  must  see  to  it.  I  will  leave  you  and  take  the  right 
hand  side  of  the  way  toward  the  courthouse.  Send  Jenkins 
round  to  the  crooked  oak  with  my  horse,  that  he  may  be  con 
veniently  in  readiness.  I  may  have  to  scud  on  short  notice 
That  done,  take  your  way  to  Baxter's,  and  meet  me  at  the 
entrance.  Perhaps  it  would  be  quite  as  well  to  send  the  old 
woman  into  the  kitchen,  or  on  some  wild-goose  errand,  that  the 
coast  may  be  clear.  See  to  it  now,  Hawkins,  with  all  your 
eyes;  for  we  arc  in  no  sort  of  danger  here;  nobody  here  will 
suspect  us,  unless  we  blunder  through  stupidity  or  haste." 
r  Saxon  looked  carefully  to  his  pistols,  which  were  well-con 
cealed  in  the  bosom  of  the  overcoat  he  were.  Nobody  would 
have  suspected,  under  the  calm,  cool,  dignified  movement,  the 
doomed  outlaw,  standing  on  the  brink  of  danger,  and  thought 
ful  only  on  the  means  of  extrication  from  perils  that  environed 
himself  and  comrades  on  every  hand.  His  bowie-knife,  that 
dreadful  instrument  of  summary  and  sanguinary  vengeance, 
whose  edge,  sharpened  to  a  razor's  keenness,  was  rendered  rtill 
terrible  by  the  condensed  weight  of  a  sabre  thrown  into 


BORDER   BEAGLES. 

uack,  was  adjusted  in  his  breast  so  as  to  answer  the  first 
movements  of  his  hand ;  and,  with  the  confidence  of  one  who 
has  prepared  himself  at  all  points  for  the  worst,  the  bold  man, 
who  is  probably  already  recognised  by  the  reader  of  our 
previous  work  (Richard  Hurdis)  as  an  old  acquaintance,  left 
the  shop  of  his  comrade  and  emerged  calmly  into  the  thorough 
fare 

Proceeding  witl  corresponding  boldness,  he  went  forward 
where  the  throng  was  thickest,  entered  the  courthouse,  looked 
on  and  listened  for  a  brief  space  to  the  proceedings,  then  took 
his  way  slowly  to  the  house  of  Mrs.  Baxter,  where  he  had 
appointed  to  meet  with  his  comrade.  Hawkins  had  so  con 
trived  it,  as  to  keep  the  passage  clear.  He  led  him  through  it 
with  slow  and  cautious  footsteps,  up  the  narrow  stairway,  and 
thence  into  his  chamber,  which  lay  on  the  left  hand,  being  the 
room  opposite  that  which  the  governor  occupied.  The  little 
landing-course  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  —  a  sort  of  platform, 
some  five  feet  wide,  was  the  only  space  that  separated  the  two 
chambers.  When  Hawkins  had  closed  his  door,  he  gave  Saxon 
to  understand  that  but  a  few  moments  had  passed  since  Carter, 
accompanied  by  Vernon,  had  gone  into  the  governor's  room, 
,iid  his  intelligence  quickened  the  anxiety  of  Saxon  to  inquire 
•,nto  the  purport  of  their  business.  Though  scarcely  governed 
by  so  keen  a  motive  as  the  outlaw,  let  us,  however,  go  forward 
more  boldly  than  himself  to  procure  the  desired  knowledge, 
ana  at  one's  enter  the  chamber  in  which  the  three  are  now  as 
sembled.  We  shall  lose  little  by  our  delay,  since  the  prelimi 
naries  of  introduction  —  those  little  formalities  without  which 
the  world  does  no  business  civilly  —  occupied  the  brief  space 
between  the  entrance  of  Vernon  to  the  conference,  and  the 
beginning  of  our  own  and  the  outlaw's  espionage  upon  its 
progress. 

"Our  mutual  friend,  Mr.  Carter,  assures  me,  Mr.  Vernou,  of 
your  perfect  capacity  to  do  for  me  a  certain  business  which  is 
important  to  the  interests  of  the  state,  and  which  requires  as 
much  secrecy  and  courage  as  intelligence.  Can  I  hope  for  your 
assistance  ?" 

The  youth  answered  him  briefly,  that  any  service  not  incon- 
with  that  upon  which  he  was  at  present  engaged  would 


POLITICIANS    IN    COUNCIL. 

be  cheerfuLy   undertaken  by  him,  which  would  subserve  :.!>« 
interests  of  the  state,  and  oblige  his  excellency 

"  But  your  excellency  is  not  aware,  perhaps,"  he  continued, 
"  that  I  am  to  leave  Raymond,  possibly  to-morrow,  for  the 
Yazoo  neighborhood." 

"  It  is  that  fact,  in  part,"  was  the  reply,  "which  prompts  my 
application.  It  is  in  that  very  neighborhood  that  your  assist 
ance  will  be  required.  I  need  not  add,  that,  apart  from  th- 
state's  commission  which  will  be  given  you,  an  adequate  coin 
pensation  will  be  assigned  for  the  time  which  may  be  consumed 
in  the  service,  and  the  degree  of  labor  and  peril  to  which  you 
may  be  subjected." 

"  It  will  give  me  pleasure,  sir,  to  serve  the  state,  even  without 
these  considerations ;  but,  I  must  remind  your  excellency  of 
one  qualification  with  which  I  prefaced  my  first  reply.  If  the 
ties  required  at  my  hands,  shall,  in  any  way^  affect 'the  object 
which  I  have  in  view,  and  which  I  must,  under  existing  cii- 
cumstances,  esteem  paramount  to  every  other,  I  shall  be  com 
pelled  to  decline  the  service,  though  I  do  so  with  extreme 
reluctance,  as  a  loss  of  opportunity  for  honorable  employment. 
Will  you  oblige  me,  sir,  by  suffering  me  to  know  the  nature  of 
the  business." 

"  Certainly.  Briefly  then  :  we  have  advices  by  express  from 
the  authorities  of  Alabama,  which  inform  us  of  a  singular  and 
extensive  plan  of  outlawry,  which  has  its  source  either  in  that 
state  or  in  ours,  and  perhaps  in  both,  and  numbers  no  fewei 
than  fifteen  hundred  «eU  <  rents  in  the  two.  This  number  has, 
I  doubt  not,  been  gfie  ously  exaggerated.  If  it  be  not,  we  are 
in  very  sad  condition.  Of  one  thing  these  letters  assure  me, 
that  many  of  our  citizens,  hitherto  held  in  good  esteem,  are 
sworn  confederates  of  these  banditti,  and  in  one  disguise  or 
another  trail  through  all  parts  of  the  state,  and  sometime* 
operate  in  fixed  places  with  even  more  effect,  as  they  appeal 
under  characters  the  more  specious  and  imposing.  Then  we 
have  positive  intelligence  that  some  of  our  justices  of  the 
peace  belong  to  this  band,  and  we  are  scarcely  in  doubt  that  • 
militia  officer,  of  whom  the  public  has  hitherto  thought  \vry 
highly,  is  himself  a  leader  among  these  outlaws.  Their  Com 
mander-in-chief,  one  Clym  or  Clem  Foster,  msfo  his  ^sc.-uv 


38  HORDEIt  BfcAGLKS. 

Iron,  certain  citi/ons  of  Tuscaloosn  county  about  three  weeks 
ago,  and  was  reported  to  have  crossed  ove"  by  way  of  Cotton- 
gin  Port  within  Viic  last  xen  days.  A  man  answering  to  his 
description  was  sesn  m  Jiac  neigh Dorhood  about  that  time. 
Thus,  you  have  in  brief  the  aspect  of  affairs,  You  see  one  of 
the  chief  difficulties  in.  our  way.  To  move  openly,  and  with  a 
force  drawn  frorr.  any  other  quarter  of  the  state,  to  act  upon 
that  in  which  these  scoundrels  congregate,  would  be  only  to 
expel  them  temporarily,  and  we  should  fail  probably  in  taking 
a  single  prisoner.  To  place  a  special  commission  in  the  hands 
of  any  person  in  that  neighborhood,  of  whom  we  are  not  sure, 
would  be  equally  indiscreet,  since  it  might  be  placing  the  whole 
power  of  the  state,  for  the  time,  in  the  control  of  one  of  the 
very  banditti  whom  we  are  striving  to  subdue.  We  want  a 
bold  spirit,  who  will  act  vigorously  when  occasion  serves ;  but 
one  who  can  keep  his  secret,  work  himself  so  adroitly  as  to 
sound  those  with  whom  he  mingles,  sift  the  worthy  from  the 
unworthy,  and  embody  them  in  the  proper  moment  for  the 
capture  or  destruction  of  these  wretches." 

Vernon  heard  the  speaker  with  close  attention.  We  have 
summed  up  in  short,  what  was  only  delivered  in  a  dialogue  of 
some  length,  in  which  the  questions  of  the  former  necessarily 
led  to  the  revelation  of  many  facts,  of  which,  it  is  quite  proba 
ble,  the  governor  spoke  with  some  reluctance  and  with  very 
imperfect  knowledge.  When  these  facts  had  been  obtained 
tiie  answer  of  Vernon  was  immediate. 

"  Your  excellency  shall  judge  for  yourself  of  what  service  I 
can  be  to  you  in  this  business,  and  how  far  it  will  prove  con 
sistent  with  my  present  objects  to  accept  of  your  appointment. 
While  you  will  not  deem  my  reluctance  to  arise  from  any  lack 
of  desire  to  do  my  duty  to  the  country  which  protects  me,  you 
will,  at  the  sair.e  time,  hold  me  guiltless  of  the  vanity  which 
A'^uld  assume  me  to  be  possessed  of  those  endowments  which 
you  esteem,  and  correctly,  to  be  necessary  to  the  proper  success 
of  the  person  you  select.  You  are  probably,  in  part,  advised 
of  the  mission  upon  which  I  go  to  the  Yazoo.  I  am  in  pursuit 
of  one,  also  a  criminal,  who,  for  aught  we  know,  may  be  one 
of  these  very  ban<>^>  Will  it  be  iny  policy  to  undertake  thip 


POLITIC!    -        IN    COUNCIL.  89 

trust,  when  its  execution  may  lead  i::ii  into  conflicts  and  neces 
sities  which  may  defeat  my  present  purpose?" 

"  Will  it  not  ?"  replied  the  governor.  "  The  capture  of  one 
of  the  band,  the  discovery  of  the  secrets  of  one,  and  that  one 
not  the  person  whom  you  pursue  —  will  these  not  be  rather 
more  likely  than  not,  to  lead  also  to  his  detection?" 

"  1  am  afraid  not,  your  excellency.  Apart  from  the  obvious 
consequence  of  taking  upon  myself  an  additional  employment, 
which  must  be,  to  a  certain  extent,  the  diversion  of  my  atten 
tioii  from,  and  my  pursuit  of,  the  one  object;  these  felons, 
according  to  your  own  showing,  are  in  possession  of  so  complete 
a  system,  that  unless  you  strike  them,  by  a  simultaneous  blow 
upon  every  link  of  their  operation,  you  endanger  the  success 
of  your  whole  project.  No  one  man,  setting  out  as  I  do,  with 
so  little  preparation,  and  without  concert  with  any  other  opera 
tives,  can  possibly  hope  to  effect  anything  in  this  double  busi 
ness.  It  would  give  me  pride  to  act  in  this  matter,  as  your 
excellency  desires ;  believe  me,  sir,  I  feel  deeply  this  honorable 
compliment ;  but  I  am  perfectly  convinced,  that,  unless  it  posi 
tively  happened  in  my  way,  to  act  upon  the  information  you 
give,  I  should  esteem  it  unwise  to  go  aside  from  my  path,  and 
jeopard  the  success  of  that  other  purpose,  which,  as  it  is  of 
vital  importance  to  Mr.  Carter,  is,  I  assure  you,  of  little  less 
importance  to  me." 

The  governor  seemed  much  chagrined  by  this  answer,  and 
otrode  the  chamber  with  ill-concealed  disquiet.  Vernon  resumed. 

"  When,  however,  I  decline  the  assumption  of  this  charge, 
as  a  distinct  and  responsible  appointment,  your  excellency,  I 
do  not  mean  to  say  that  I  would  not  do  anything,  if  called  on 
in  a  moment  of  emergency,  to  promote  the  welfare  of  the  state 
and  secure  its  peace." 

"  You  would  confer  on  this  subject  with  another,  should  I 
send  him  to  you — you  would  act  with  him  if  it  took  you  not 
off  from  your  present  business  ?"  demanded  the  other  eagerly 

"  More,  sir ;  I  acknowledge  your  right,  in  the  state's  emer 
gency,  to  call  upon  me  to  risk  my  life  should  that  be  necessary." 

"  Enough — you  shall  have  blank  commissions  to  use  at  your 
discretion,  and  I  will  give  you  —  Stay!  did  you  hear  nothing, 
Mr.  Carter  ?"  And  as  the  governer  put  this  question  bis  fingei 


BORDER    BKAGLKS. 

pointed  to  tlic  inner  door,  leading  to  the  stairway.  A  slight 
rustling  movement  was  evident  at  this  moment,  and  instantly 
approaching  it,  his  hand  was  extended  to  the  latch,  when  it 
partially  unclosed  without  his  aid,  as  if  in  consequence  of  the 
sudden  withdrawal  of  one's  grasp  from  without.  The  dark 
outline  of  a  man  was  perceptible  through  the  aperture. 

"  The  outlaw  himself,  by  heaven  !"  cried  he,  as  he  beheld 
the  indistinct  outlines  of  the  person  without.  "It  is  Foster  — 
it  answers  the  description." 

With  these  words  the  governor  rushed  to  the  door  with  the 
intention  of  pursuing,  but  his  purpose  was  defeated  by  a  hand 
from  without,  which,  grasping  the  handle,  drew  it  to,  and  held 
it  firmly  against  all  his  efforts.  Meanwhile,  steps  were  heard 
as  of  one  descending  the  stairs.  The  moments  were  precious, 
and  with  that  promptness  of  movement  which  was  a  prime  and 
distinctive  feature  in  the  character  of  Vernon,  and  tallied  well 
with  his  keen  intellect,  no  less  than  with  his  great  personal 
strength,  he  threw  his  weight  with  a  bound  against  the  obstruc 
tion,  and  bore  it  with  a  single  effort  from  its  hinges.  The 
frame-work  was  sustained  only  by  the  person  from  without 
whose  grasp  had  hitherto  secured  the  door.  In  another  moment 
the  arms  of  the  youth  were  wrapped  around  him,  and,  in  spite 
of  his  exertions,  he  was  hauled  into  the  room  to  answer  for  his 
essay  at  eavesdropping. 

"What  means  this  violence,  gentlemen,"  demanded  the  eaves 
dropper,  who  was  no  other  than  Hawkins. 

"  Who  are  you  ? —  what  do  you  here,  and  where  is  the  other 
ruffian,  your  comrade,  sirrah  ?" 

"  Hard  words,  sir,  and  you  shall  answer  for  them,"  was  the 
reply  of  the  fellow.  "I  am  here  because  I  lodge  here  —  that 
is  my  chamber,  and  by  these  stairs  I  descend  from  it,  and  go  to 
it  when  it  pleases  me.  Take  your  hand  from  my  collar,  young 
one,  or  I  will  hurt  you." 

He  accompanied  these  words  with  a  threatening  action,  which 
Vernon,  to  whom  they  were  addressed,  only  answered  by  hurl 
ing  him  to  the  ground  with  as  much  ease  as  if  he  had  been  an 
infant ;  setting  his  knee  upon  his  bosom,  and  drawing  thence 
the  bowie-knife,  the  possession  of  which  he  suspected,  as  he 
saw  the  fellow  unbuttoning  his  vest. 


POLITICIANS    IN    COUNCIL.  91 

"But  the  greater  villain  must   l>e  sccnrrd.      I  saw  liis  person 

—  T  have  seen  him  before,  and  1  am  sure  1  can  not  be  mistaken. 

ft  is  Foster  —  you  heard  him  descending  —  he  can  not  be  far  — 

let  us  take  this  fellow  forward  till  we  can  deliver  him  to  an 

officer,  and  set  some  in  pursuit." 

"  You  carry  me  not  from  this  house,"  growled  the  fellow  from 
beneath  the  knee  of  Vernon.  "This  is  my  house  —  my  castip 
—  and  you  shall  answer  for  this,  or  there's  no  law  for  a  pooi 
man  in  Mississippi." 

"You  shall  have  law  enough,  my  man,"  replied  the  governor. 
'  Ben  Carter  —  since  this  fellow  will  give  us  the  trouble  to  carry 
dim  —  run  to  the  sheriff,  and  bid  him  bring  his  posse.  We 
si; all  provide  him  closer  lodgings  for  a  time,  and  he  may  then 
play  eavesdropper  to  those  who  are  more  of  his  own  com 
plexion." 

In  due  time  Hawkins  was  delivered  to  the  sheriff,  and  pur 
suit  commenced  after  the  outlaAv ;  but  the  hounds  were  soon  at 
fault ;  the  fox  had  baffled  them,  and  was  now  out  of  reach  — 
taking  a  zigzag  course  within  five  miles  of  Raymond,  as  coolly 
as  if  there  were  no  sheriff  within  fifty.  By  night  he  was  back 
again,  and  lingered  long  enough  to  hear  from  those  who  little 
suspected  his  interest  in  the  narration,  a  long  story  of  his  own 
escape,  and  of  Hawkins'  commitment.  The  story,  went  that 
he  and  the  governor  had  grappled  fairly  —  that  the  governor 
had  got  all  the  advantages,  but  that  he  had  got  —  off.  Which 
WS»JB  pretty  nearly  the  true  state  of  the  case. 


92  BORDER   BEAGLES 


CHAPTER    VIII 

OUR    HERO    TAKES   THE    HIGHWAY "THE    STAR"    IN    CHA88  - 

PLAY    AT   CROSS-PURPOSES. 

— "I  hope  that  I  shall  ride  in  the  saddle.  O,  'tis  a  brave  thing  for  a  man 
to  sit  by  himself!  He  may  stretch  himself  in  the  stirrups,  look  about,  and 
see  the  whole  compass  of  the  hemisphere.  You're  now,  my  lord,  i'  the 
aaddle."— WEBSTER.— The  White  Devil, 

THE  necessary  documents  had  come,  court  was  over  in  Ray 
mond,  and  on  a  cold,  frosty  morning,  while  yet  the  day  only 
glimmered  with  a  faint  redness  through  the  eastern  chinks, 
Harry  Vernon,  booted  and  spurred,  prepared  to  mount  his  good 
steed,  on  his  journey  of  adventure.  Carter  stood  beside  him, 
having  given  his  last  instructions.  He  was  visibly  affected  with 
the  thought  of  parting  from  one  whom  he  regarded  as  warmly 
as  he  could  have  done  his  own  and  only  child  ;  and  this  feeling 
was  much  increased,  as  he  beheld  the  unreluctant  and  prompt 
determination  of  the  youth  to  undertake  and  execute  to  the 
"best  of  his  abilities,  a  labor  which  involved  the  prospect  of  so 
much  fatigue,  and,  possibly  of  so  much  peril.  This  last  con 
sideration,  at  the  moment  of  separation,  pleaded  more  strongly 
in  the  old  man's  mind  than  any  other. 

"  And  yet,  Harry,  my  son,"  said  he,  "  when  I  hear  of  this 
banditti,  and  behold  the  audacity  with  which  they  act,  I  am 
afraid  to  let  you  go.  God  forbid  that  you  should  risk  your  life 
that  1  might  recover  or  save  a  few  thousands,  which  I  should 
be  suffered  but  a  few  years  to  enjoy,  and  which  I  need  not  now. 
It  is  not  too  late — let  William  Maitland  go,  and  prosper,  if  he 
may,  with  his  ill-gotten  treasures  —  why  should  I  send  after 
him,  to  possible  loss,  one  that  I  value  so  much  more?  Why 
should  you  undertake  this  toil,  which  takes  you  from  a  profes 
sion  which  you  have  so  honorably  begun ;  and  carries  you 
among  the  profligate  and  the  dangerous  ?" 


OUR    HERO    TAKES   THE    HIGHWAY.  93 

"  Nay,  nay,  my  more  than  father,"  replied  the  youth  affec 
tionately,  "  you  make  the  risks  too  great,  and  the  object  lesn 
important  than  it  is.  There  is  but  little  danger,  I  trust,  as  I 
shall  manage  the  pursuit ;  and  it  was  only  in  order  to  avoid  un 
necessary  encounters,  that  I  declined  accepting  the  governor's 
offers.  On  this  point  I  shall  be  well  guarded.  I  shall  proceed 
slowly,  moderately ;  neither  seeking  the  crowd,  nor  yet  avoid 
ing  it ;  and  only  penetrating  into  forbidden  places,  when  there 
are  probabilities  of  my  finding  William  Maitland  within.  The 
loss  is  much  greater  than  you  think  for,  since,  though  you  arc 
liable  only  for  the  amount  of  your  bond,  yet,  in  a  moral  point 
of  view,  you  are  not  free  from  responsibility  for  all  the  money 
over  that  amount,  of  which  he  has  robbed  the  bank.  Your 
readiness  to  answer  for  his  honesty,  implied  in  your  guaranty 
for  so  much  money,  induced  their  trusts ;  and,  though  they  may 
demand  of  you  but  thirty  thousand  dollars  in  law,  in  morals  you 
owe  it  clearly  to  them  to  spare  no  exertions  which  shall,  in  ad 
dition,  get  them  back  the  other  sums  for  which  they  have  no 
responsible  guaranty.  A  moment's  reflection,  under  your  own 
convictions  of  what  is  right,  must  clearly  establish  to  your  mind 
this  truth.  As  for  my  danger  —  set  your  heart  at  rest,  as  I  shall 
certainly  set  mine.  I  have  a  cool,  deliberate  temper,  which 
will  not  flare  up  at  every  fool's  folly,  and  I  am,  I  think,  suffi 
ciently  under  the  guidance  of  prudent  thought,  to  keep  from 
the  heels  of  any  brute  in  his  moment  of  anger.  Give  me  your 
prayers,  my  dear  sir,  when  I  am  gone,  and  I  know  not  that  I 
shall  find  or  need  any  better  protection." 

"  Yet  it  is  needful,  my  son,  that  you  have  some  of  the  more 
carnal  engines.  You  have  weapons  ?" 

"  Enough,  if  pistol  and  bowie-knife  can  ever  be  enough.  J 
have  a  pair  of  pistols,  and  a  small  but  ^leavy  knife.  I  doubt  if 
I  shall  need  them." 

;;  I  have  then  only  to  repeat  what  I  have  said  before,  Harry  : 
x  have  no  desire  to  drive  this  man  to  utter  destitution.  He  has 
children — the  children  of  Ellen  Taylor  —  and  she  in  her  grave. 
God  forbid  that  I  should  do  anything  to  make  them  destitute  or 
wretched.  Let  him  yield  everything,  and,  as  I  have  told  you, 
I  will  secure  to  them  the  sum  of  twenty -five  thousand  lollars, 
u»de/:  such  restrictions  as  will  keep  it  from  his  creators,  and 


94  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

from  his  own  profligacy.  I  need  not  say  to  you,  however,  that 
he  is  one  upon  whom  you  can  not  rely  ;  you  must  have  him  in 
your  power ;  you  must  keep  him  in  your  power,  and  the  money 
must  be  disgorged,  before  you  sign  papers.  Avoid,  I  need 
scarcely  tell  you,  all  unnecessary  exposure  of  his  villany,  for 
her  sake,  for  the  sake  of  her  children,  both  of  whom  are  fe 
males." 

"  You  have  written,  sir,  to  Mason  at  Vicksburg  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  to  Fleetwood  at  Benton,  and  Mercer  at  Lexington, 
They  will  provide  you  with  funds  when  called  upon." 

"  There  is  nothing  more  to  be  asked,"  said  the  youth,  leap 
ing  to  his  saddle.  "  I  will  write  to  you  at  Natchez  when  ne 
cessary.  God  bless  you,  my  dear  sir,  and  jkeep  you  in  health 
— farewell !" 

He  did  not  stop  to  hear  the  parting  accents,  tremblingly  ut 
tered,  which  the  good  man  sent  after  him  in  blessings.  In  ten 
minutes  the  forest  had  shrouded  him  from  sight,  and  the  tearful 
eyes  of  Carter  strained  after  him  in  vain. 

Let  us  return  to  Saxon,  otherwise  Clement  Foster,  the  out 
law  of  Alabama.  Having  satisfied  himself,  by  personal  inquiry, 
of  the  condition  of  Hawkins,  his  companion,  in  Raymond,  he 
left  the  village  at  midnight,  and,  to  verify  the  scripture  phrase 
which  denies  all  rest  to  the  wicked,  he  rode  nearly  fifteen  miles 
at  that  late  hour  of  the  night.  His  course  lay  somewhat  across 
the  country  in  the  direction  of  Grand  Gulf.  He  came  at  length 
to  a  little  farmstead,  which  stood  in  a  half-dilapidated  condition 
at  the  head  of  a  "  turn-out,"  that  was  barely  perceptible  at  any 
time  from  the  road,  and  only  obvious  at  night  to  one  familiar 
with  it.  Here  he  routed  up  two  men,  who  proved  his  confed 
erates,  and  with  whom  he  conferred  for  an  hour  before  retiring 
to  rest.  This  he  did  at  length  in  a  shed-room  of  the  hovel, 
which,  it  would  seem,  from  the  tacit  manner  in  which  it  was 
got  in  readiness  for  him,  without  orders,  was  reserved  for  him 
especially.  Some  portions  of  his  conference  with  these  men,  as 
they  may  affect  this  narrative,  should  be  given  to  the  reader. 

"Has  Jones  come  up  from  Pontchartrain  1"  demanded  the 
leader. 

He  was  answered  by  one  of  the  men  in  the  negative. 

•'  IIs  will  -then  be  here  tc -morrow,  but  I  shall  not  wait  foi 


OUR  HERO  TAKES  THE  HIGHWAY.          \)-) 

him.  He  must  go  on  as  fast  as  horseflesh  will  carry  him,  an-d 
meet  me  if  he  can  at  Brown  Betsy's  to-morrow  night.  You  can 
counsel  him  to  come  soher,  if  he  comes  at 'all,  for  I  wish  him  to 
skulk  and  follow,  and  play  at  point-hazard,  perhaps,  with  at 
keon  a  lawyer  as  rides  the  Mississippi  circuit.  Be  sure  and 
tdl  him  this,  that  he  may  drink  his  alkalis  and  purge  himself 
•-•('  the  whiskey-bottle.  It  is  a  day's  purgation  ;  but  he  must  do 
it  while  he  goes.  He  brings  your  share  of  the  money  from  the 
Atchafalaya  business ;  but,  by  the  Lord  Harry,  Stanton,  money 
-ooms  to  do  you  little  good.  You  are  even  now  in  rags." 

"  That's  because  I  don't  get  it  by  good  means,  I  suppose  " 
said  the  fellow  spoken  to,  in  half-sleepy,  half-surly  accents. 

"What,  do  you  preach  too,  sirrah?  But  —  go  to  bed,  and 
forget  not  when  you  waken  what  I  tell  you  now.  You  will 
also  remember  it,  Drake.  The  matter  is  of  more  consequence 
than  you  think  for,  and  will  swamp  us  all,  if  we  keep  not  our 
eyes  open  and  our  heads  clear.  To  sleep  —  to  sleep." 

At  day-dawn,  the  outlaw  was  again  in  motion,  visiting  other 
haunts  and  dwellings  of  his  fraternity,  that  lay  in  his  way, 
while  pursuing  nn  upward  course  that  carried  him  along  the 
waters  of  the  Loosa  Chitto  or  Big  Black  river.  It  so  happened 
that  this  very  course  was  that  taken  by  Vernon,  though  the 
latter,  as  his  progress  was  straight-forward,  was  necessarily 
much  in  advance  of  the  outlaw. 

At  the  time  of  which  we  write,  this  regu  n  of  country  was 
very  thinly  settled.  The  traveller  rode  fort}  or  fifty  miles  per 
day,  very  frequently  without  seeing  sign  of  human  habitation, 
and  his  road  lay  through  swamps  that  seemed  like  vast  rivers 
of  mire,  which  his  horse,  with  a  feeling  like  his  own,  would 
approach  with  a  footstep  most  mincing  and  deliberate.  Travel 
in  such  a  territory  is  travail,  indeed ;  and  to  one  accustomed 
only  to  the  stage  and  steamboat  facilities  of  the  Atlantic  states, 
it  has  the  aspect  of  something  even  more  afflicting.  The  swim 
ming  of  creeks  surcharged  by  freshets,  and  wading  through  the 
ooze  of  a  cane-brake,  each  plunge  into  which  makes  the  mire 
quiver  around  the  very  shoulders  of  your  horse,  would  be  some 
thing  of  a  warning  to  young  couples  to  stay  at  home  the  first 
month  after  marriage,  in  that  neighborhood,  and  not  go  upon 
connubial  expeditions  of  two  or  three  hundred  miles,  just  after 


96  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

the  knot  has  been  safely  fastened.     Its  disruption  might  be  no 
infrequent  consequence  of  such  a  doubtful  practice. 

To  one  like  Vernon,  however,  bold,  and  governed  by  a  tem 
perament  that  gloried  in  a  dash  of  romance,  the  occasional  per 
ils  of  such  a  course  were  lost  altogether  in  the  novelty  of  the 
circumstances ;  and  he  dashed  through  the  creek  with  a  confi 
dent  spur,  without  stopping  like  more  wary  adventurers  to 
probe  his  footing  with  a  pole,  then  drive  his  horse  through  the 
stream,  while  he  "  cooned  a  log"  above  it. 

These  little  obstructions  were  not  unfrequent  in  his  route,  but 
they  offered  no  impediment  to  him.  The  duties  of  life  and 
manhood,  opening  for  the  first  time  fairly  upon  his  conscious 
ness,  were  provocative  of  that  stimulus  only,  which  we  are  apt 
to  see  in  the  forward  boy,  to  whom  nothing  gives  so  much  de 
light  as  being  permitted  to  flourish  with  the  tools  of  full-grown 
men.  He  had  neither  father  nor  mother,  with  painful  misgiv 
ings  of  himself,  to  awaken  his  own  painful  thoughts ;  and,  un 
like  most  young  men  of  his  age,  his  heart  remained  perfectly 
uncommitted  to  any  one  of  the  hundred  damsels,  who,  in  every 
civilized  community,  seem  always  to  lie  in  waiting  for  fugitive 
hearts.  In  short,  he  had  little  to  lose  of  positive  possession, 
whether  of  wealth  or  affection ;  he  had  everything  to  gain  in 
both  respects.  His  income  was  yet  limited,  and  for  ties,  he 
knew  none  nearer  than  that  with  the  worthy  Mr.  Carter.  His 
present  object  was  calculated  to  serve  himself  no  less  than  his 
patron,  though  the  handsome  reward  offered  by  the  bank  for 
the  recovery  of  the  lost  money,  or  the  delivery  of  the  felon, 
would  never  have  moved  the  proud  young  lawyer  from  his 
chosen  place  at  the  bar,  but  that  the  interests  of  his  friend  — 
his  preservation,  in  fact  —  absolutely  required  it.  But  this  the 
reader  already  understands. 

The  turn  of  noon  was  at  hand,  and  as  yet  our  young  traveller  had 
eaten  nothing.  The  thought  of  himself  made  him  considerate  of 
his  horse,  a  noble  animal,  the  gift  of  Carter  some  two  years  be 
fore.  A  pleasant  rising-ground  oil  his  right,  from  the  f(  ot  of  which 
a  little  branch  wandered  prattling  across  the  road,  s;:ggcs'ed  all  nec 
essary  conveniences  for  i  ef  reshment,  the  other  appliances  being  forth 
coming. 

"  We  will  ride,  Sylvan^  up  this  hill,  which  seems  £ras-y  enough  to 


OUR  HERO  TAKES  THE  HIGHWAY.  9? 

give  you  a  good  hour's  employment,  and,  in  the  meanwhile,  Mrs.  Hor 
sey'."  biscuits  and  smoked  beef  shall  answer  my  purposes.  The  good 
old  lady  ! — how  she  wondered  to  find  her  plate  of  biscuits  missing, 
and  how  she  routed  the  cook,  and  Tom,  the  waiter,  and  the  whole 
household,  except  the  true  thief,  touching  their  loss.  I  suppose, 
by  'Ms  time,  Carter  has  told  her  all  about  it — the  why  and  the 
wherefore.  Good  old  man  !  If  I  can  oaly  save  hini  this  money, 
I  shall  feel  that  I  have  done  something  to  deserve  the  favor  which 
he  has  always  shown  me.  If  mind  and  body  can  do  this  t^irg 
such  as  I  have  shall  be  given  without  stint  or  hesitation  to  the  task — so 
Heaven  prosper  me  in  my  own  purposes  hereafter." 

This  soliloquy  was  muttered  as  the  youth  rode  his  horse  upon 
the  hill,  and  led  him  to  a  spot  where  he  might  graze  freely  with 
out  wandering.  He  stripped  him  of  the  saddle  and  vaMse,  which  he 
placed  beside  a  log,  then  seating  himself,  drew  forth  Lis  little  store 
of  provisions,  the  biscuits  which  had  been  appropriated  by  Carter 
the  night  before,  to  the  probable  consternation  of  his  wor  by  land 
lady.  To  have  asked  for  them,  would  have  been  to  declare  the 
purpose  of  travel  which  Vernon  Lad  in  view,  nr.d  this,  once 
known  to  the  mother  would  have  been  ,c:oon  known  to  the  son  Tom, 
and  through  his  communicative  medium  to  every  third  person,  at 
least,  in  the  little  world  of  Raymond.  The  knife  of  our  traveller 
was  already  buried  in  the  smoked  beef,  when  his  ear  extinguished 
a  sound  not  unlike  that  of  en  approaching  horseman.  The  e:irs  of 
his  own  steed  pricked  upward  at  the  sound,  and  when  it  became  more 
distinct,  the  conscious  animal  whinnied  as  if  with  the  joyful  con 
viction  that  he  was  about  to  Lave  a  companion.  Yemen  started  to 
his  f set  as  the  horseman  came  in  sight,  and  was  absc  lutely  dumb 
with  astonishment  to  recognize,  at  a  single  glance,  the  person  of 
our  eccentric  friend,  Tom  Horsey.  His  horse  was  w<  11  heated  by 
hard  riding,  and  covered  with  foam ;  and  he  himself,  though  chuck 
ling  mightily  at  having  found  the  object  of  his  search,  alighted 
from  his  steed  with  the  air  of  one  whose  bones  ached  with  his  un 
wonted  jolting. 

"  Ah,  Harry,  Harry !  What  shall  I  say  to  thee,  Harry  ? 
Shall  I  call  thee  a  traitor  to  friendship — to  heel  it  before  day- 
peep,  and  say  no  word  to  the  fellow  most  after  thy  own  hea.rt  ? 


98  BORDEK    BEAGLES. 

'  That  was  the  unkindest  cut  of  all.1  I  did  not  think  it  of  thee, 
Harry  !  By  the  gh'ost  of  Garrick,  I  did  not !" 

Much  annoyed  at  his  pursuit  and  presence,  Vernon  was  quite 
too  much  surprised  at  the  event,  and  too  curious  to  know  the 
cause  of  the  actor's  pertinacity,  to  express  himself  as  freely,  and 
perhaps  as  harshly,  as  he  might  otherwise  have  done. 

"  Truly,  Mr.  Horsey,  I  know  not  what  you  mean,  or  what 
you  have  to  complain  of.  I  am  surprised  to  see  you  here." 

"  You  need  be ;  you  deserve  no  such  love  at  my  hands, 
Harry  Monmouth.  You  should  have  spoken  out  like  a  man  — 
though  you  said  it  in  a  whisper.  Am  I  a  man  to  blab  ?  Can't 
I  be  trusted,  think  you  ?  By  Pluto,  Harry  Vernon,  I  can  be  as 
close  as  Ben  Carter  himself,  and  the  dry  cock  should  never  have 
heard  a  syllable !  Bah !  I  am  monstrous  tired.  That  rascally 
horse  goes  all  one-sided  —  he  has  been  ruined,  by  dad,  and  will 
never  suit  any  but  a  lame  man  again.  I  do  think  he  has  dis 
located  my  hip." 

"  Your  father's  horse,  Mr.  Horsey  ?  How  can  the  old  man  do 
without  him  ?  You  will  surely  return  with  him  immediately." 

"  Devil  a  bit,  Harry,  devil  a  bit.  He  deserves  to  lose  him 
for  not  having  a  better  in  the  stable,  and  I  will  trade  him  off 
the  first  chance,  though  I  get  one  old  as  Methusaleh." 

"  But  wherefore  are  you  here,  Mr.  Horsey  ?  You  do  not 
mean  to  travel,  surely." 

"Do  I  not?  Look  at  the  bags!  Filled,  sir — filled  to  the 
muzzle,  with  my  best  wardrobe.  There's  a  Romeo  and  a  Ham 
let,  two  field-officers,  and  a  Turk  in  that  wallet,  not  to  speak  of 
certain  inexpressibles,  which  will  do  for  a  dozen  uncertain  char 
acters.  But  —  this  is  dry  work.  What's  in  your  flask?" 

He  did  not  wait  to  be  answered,  but  clapped  the  bottle,  which 
lay  with  the  bread  and  beef  at  Vernon's  feet,  to  his  mouth,  and 
long  and  fervent  was  the  draught  which  he  made  therefrom. 

"  Good  whiskey  that,  and  whiskey's  an  honest  beverage. 
And  now,  Harry,  a  bite  of  your  biscuit.  You  will  laugh,  per 
haps,  but,  of  a  truth,  I  look  upon  FalstafFs  proportion  of  bread 
and  sack,  as  decidedly  the  best  for  a  traveller  in  winter.  'This 
is  a  nipping  and  an  eager  air,'  and  nothing  blunts  its  edge  so 
well  as  a  good  sup  of  Monongahela.  This  dough  stuff  makes 
one  feel  as  dry  and  crusty  as  itself.  But  you  do  not  eat,  Ver 


OUR    HERO    TAKES   THE    HIGHWAY.  99 

"  Why,  truly,  sir,  I  am  so  surprised  to  see  you  here,  that  1 
had  almost  forgotten  that  I  was  hungry.  But,  perhaps,  you 
bring  me  some  message  from  Mr.  Carter  V' 

"Carter,  indeed!  Oh,  no!  I  was  quite  too  sly  for  that. 
The  moment  Jim  told  me  you  were  off — for  it  seems  he  saw 
you  and  Carter  go  to  the  stable  by  dawn,  or,  as  he  swears,  be 
fore  it  —  I  had  just  risen  to  take  my  antifogmatic ;  and  at  the 
word,  I  at  once  guessed  what  you  were  after ! — " 

"  Indeed !  And  pray  what  was  that  ?"  demanded  Vernon, 
with  some  curiosity,  interrupting  the  garrulous  speaker. 

"  Ah,  ha !  all  in  good  season,  my  master.  You  thought  to 
blink  me,  Harry,  but  you  must  know  I  had  a  hint  of  your  true 
business  two  days  before  from  some  clever  chaps  in  Raymond." 

The  wonder  of  Vernon  increased,  but  the  other  suffered  him 
as  little  time  to  indulge  it  as  to  make  inquiries. 

"  I  tipped  Jim  the  wink  —  set  him  to  saddle  Gray  Bowline, 
dad's  old  dot-and-go-one,  and  fasten  him  behind  the  stable, 
while  I  donned  my  first  come-atables,  and  rammed  the  rest  in 
dad's  old  saddle-bags,  where  I'll  show  them  to  you  when  you 
please.  These  I  handed  to  the  sooty  scamp,  Ayho  will  do  any 
thing  for  my  love  —  when  paid  in  money  —  and  he  got  the  nag 
caparisoned  in  twenty  minutes,  and  ready  to  my  heel.  Down 
stairs  I  went,  and  —  plump  ! — met  the  old  lady,  my  ever  ven 
erable  mamma,  in  the  passage-way.  '  Tom,'  says  she,  '  where 
are  you  going  so  soon  ?'  *  Don't  ask  me,  mother,'  says  I,  look 
ing  monstrous  hurried,  and  going  fast  ahead,  '  don't  ask  me,  I 
beg  you  ;'  and  off  I  went.  In  two  minutes  I  was  on  —  and  off. 
A  few  bounds  brought  me  into  the  woods,  and  your  track  was 
fresh  enough  for  the  eyes  of  a  young  hunter.  I  heard  of  you 
once  by  the  way,  but  —  your  nag  goes  monstrous  fast,  if  he 
goes  easy!  Mine! — by  the  petticoats  of  Ophelia  after  her 
drowning — he  has  skinned  me  utterly  all  of  one  side.  I  have 
found  you,  however,  my  dear  Harry,  and  I  don't  value  the 
skinning.  We  shall  never  part  again.  Skin  or  no  skin  under 
my  bends,  I  keep  up  with  you  though  the  devil's  brimstone 
smokes  under  your  horse's  tail." 

"  Indeed,  Mr.  Horsey,  but  there  go  two  words  to  that  bar 
gain,"  replied  Vernon,  with  an  air  of  resoluteness,  and  a  faoe 
of  but  half-concealed  chagrin. 


100  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

"'Agreed'  shall  be  one  of  them,  Harry,"  replied  the  unem 
barrassed  actor. 

"  But  how,  Mr.  Horsey,  if  I  tell  you  that  our  roads  lie  apart  1" 
•*  Impossible  !  they  do  not,  Harry  —  by  my  soul  they  do  not ! 
I  have  the  best  information  on  that  subject.     As  I  said  before, 
1  know  your  secret,  your  whole  plan  of  operations,  and,  by  all 
the  blessings  of  the  foot-lights  and  a  fine  audience,  if  you  do 
not  suffer  me  to  join  with  you  in  the  business  and  share  profits, 
I'll  run  against  you.     I'll  take  the  morsel  from  your  mouth, 
'And  pluck  the  golden-eyed  success  away 
From  your  young  grasp.'" 

"  What  can  this  witless  fellow  drive  at  ?"  was  the  unspoken 
soliloquy  of  Vernon,  ere  he  replied  to  the  speaker.  "  Can  he 
really  know  anything  1  —  it  is  scarcely  possible.  There  is  some 
mistake  ;  and  I  must  sound  him  cautiously."  Aloud  :  — 

"  And  what  may  be  this  goodly  scheme  of  mine,  Mr.  Horsey, 
in  Avhich  your  mind  is  so  resolutely  bent  to  share.  I  am  .posi 
tively  puzzled,  and  know  not  how  it  is  possible  that  a  purely 
private  business — " 

"  Purely  private,  you  call  it.  'Egad,  before  I'm  done  with 
it,  it  shall  be  public  enough.  You  thought  yourself  mighty 
secret  in  your  schemings,<md  I  confess  you  did  blind  me  for 
awhile,  and  I  took  it  for  granted  that  you  really  had  no  other 
object  in  view  than  to  run  the  dry  course  of  a  lean  lawyer,  and 
jog  from  court-house  to  court-house,  circuit  after  circuit,  pick 
ing  up  your  pay  in  corn  and  bacon,  and  getting  a  bastard  fame 
from  speeches  as  full  of  words  as  Gratiano's,  made  in  cases  of 
trespass,  pounding,  black  eyes,  and  bloody  noses.  I  give  you 
iredit,  now  that  I  discover  your  purpose,  for  being  something 
colder,  and  for  an  ambition  of  a  more  enduring  and  ennobling 
sort.  But  I  can  hardly  forgive  you,  Harry,  for  keeping  a  dumb 
side  to  me  when  you  knew  my  passion.  I  can  be  trusted,  as 
you  shall  see.  You  will  find  me  a  man  after  your  own  heart, 
if  your  heart  be  open ;  a  fellow  wise  enough  to  speak  only 
upon  cues,  though  otherwise  a  born  rattler ;  and  one  who,  what 
ever  his  woolheaded  neighbors  may  say,  can  always  '  tell  a 
hawk  from  a  handsaw,'  in  whatever  quarter  the  wind  may  bloAv." 

•'Puzzle  on  puzzle!"  exclaimed  Vernon,  now  more  than 
aver  convinced  that  his  companion  was  mad.  "  What  is  it  that 


OUR   HERO   TAKES   THE    HIGHWAY.  101 

you  really  mean,  Mr.  Horsey  ?  speak  plainly,  or  I  shall  suspect 
you  to  be  a  candidate  for  bedlam  or  the  calaboose." 

"Bedlam  or  the  calaboose!  Come!  I  don't  like  that  so 
well,  Harry  Vemon.  I  take  it  as  something  unkind,  sir,  that 
you  should  speak  in  such  fashion.  But,  I  see  how  it  is ;  I  for 
give  you ;  it  is  natural  enough  that  you  should  look  on  me  as 
one  likely  to  go  between  you  and  the  public.  But  you  shall 
find  me  generous.  By  the  powers,  Harry,  I  care  not  much 
where  I  come  in,  whether  as  one,  two,  or  three,  when  a  friend's 
fortune  and  desires  are  concerned.  You  shall  go  before,  and  I 
will  follow,  or  we  will  enter  side  by  side,  on  equal  terms,  march 
ing  to  equal  victory.  Envious  or  jealous  of  rival  merit,  I  never 
was  and  trust  never  to  become,  satisfied  that  success  has  twenty 
thousand  hands,  and  one  willing  for  every  bold,  worthy  fellow 
that  stands  ready  and  dares  to  grasp  it.  Harry  Vernon,  I 
drink  to  our  joint  success." 

The  actor  repeated  his  draught,  but  Vernon  began  to  be  se 
riously  annoyed  by  the  intrusion,  and  thought  it  high  time  to 
put  an  enc  t'  it.  Never  dreaming  of  the  conjecture  which  had 
taken  such  possession  of  his  companion's  brain,  and  ignorant, 
of  course,  of  the  stories  which  had  been  told  him,  he  could  form 
no  positive  idea  of  the  subject  of  his  ravings,  and  began  seri 
ously  to  consider  him  a  fitting  inmate  for  the  calaboose  or  bed 
lam,  as  he  had  already  suggested,  to  the  other's  momentary 
discomfiture.  His  first  movement,  therefore,  was  to  restore  his 
spirit-flask  to  the  valise,  then,  assuming  what  calmness  of  man 
ner  he  could,  and  taking  especial  care  that  while  his  words 
should  be  inoffensive,  they  should  be  to  the  point  at  least,  he 
addressed  him  in  a  manner  which  was  intended  to  bring  his 
play  at  cross-purposes  to  a  conclusion. 

"  You  have  said  a  great  deal,  Mr.  Horsey,  which  for  the  life 
of  me  I  can  not  understand.  Pray  tell  me,  without  quotation 
or  circumlocution,  what  it  is  you  mean  —  what  you  intend  — 
and  above  all  what  scheme  it  is,  which  you  assume  that  we  en 
tertain  in  common.  I  am  not  peevish  nor  fretful  in  my  dispo 
sition,  yet  I  am  not  willing  to  suffer  any  trifling  or  merriment 
at  my  expense." 

"  Or,  in  more  legitimate  phrase,  considering  our  purposes." 
repeated  the  actor — 


102  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

•"TlmiiL'h  I  am  not  spleiiM  ive  and  rash, 
Yet  have  I  in  me  something  dangerous, 
Which  let  thy  wisdom  fear.' 

Prithee,  my  good  Hamlet,  smooth  thy  looks,  and  dismiss  that 
cloud,  full  of  lightning,  that  teems  in  threatening  above  thy 
brows.  I  mean  thee  no  harm,  no  hurt,  no  offence.  I  am  a 
fellow,  as  I  tell  thee,  after  thy  own  heart,  and  thou  dost  wrong 
thyself  no  less  than  me,  to  be  angry  with  me.  Why  wouhlst 
thou  that  I  should  tell  thee  in  plain,  point-blank  matter,  what 
is  thy  business,  and  what  should  be  mine?  —  as  if  thou  waci 
resolved  not  to  know,  and  couldst  deceive  me  any  longer.  Do^t 
thou  not  seek  Tilton  ?" 

"Tilton  !"  exclaimed  Vernon  in  profound  astonishment,  min 
gled  with  something  more  of  good  humor  than  before,  as  it  now 
became  obvious  to  him  that  Horsey  had  blundered  upon  the 
wrong  man,  and  knew  nothing  of  his  secret,  of  which  he  had 
been  in  some  little  apprehension. 

"  Ay,  Tilton,  Tilton,  the  little  lamplighter  and  candle-snuffer 
and  letter-carrier  for  so  many  years  at  Caldwell's.  He,  who  has 
now  set  up  to  be  an  actor,  a  manager,  and  what  not ;  and  is 
going  to  open  at  Benton,  where  thou  and  I  —  if  thy  stomach  be 
not  too  proud,  Harry  Vernon,  for  such  companionship,  as  I 
greatly  fear  me  it  is  —  will  star  it  together,  to  the  confusion  and 
admiration  of  the  natives.  There !  you  have  it ;  and  might 
have  saved  me  all  this  trouble  by  owning  to  the  truth  before. 
Deny  me  now  if  thou  canst,  my  bully  rook ;  thou  art  not  aim 
ing  at  Benton  —  thou  dost  not  seek  for  Tilton  —  thou  wouldst 
not  leave  the  dry  bones  of  the  law,  for  the  wit  of  Mercutio  and 
the  marrow  of  Falconbridge.  In  short,  thy  ambition  leads 
thee  not  to  emulate  the  Garricks  and  the  Keans,  the  Macreadys, 
the  Forrests,  the  Coopers,  the — " 

The  unmitigated  laughter  of  Vernon  silenced  the  actor,  whose 
face  nf  exultation  it  turned  of  a  sudden  into  soberness. 

"  What  do  you  laugh  at,  Mr.  Vernon,  I  should  like  to  know  ?' 

"  Who  put  this  silly  thought  into  your  head,  Mr.  Horsey  ! 
Who  could  have  bedevilled  you  with  this  nonsense?" 

"  Bedevilled  ! — Silly  thought !  I  see  nothing  silly  about  it, 
Master  Vernon,  and  wonder  that  you  should.  Do  you  deny  it  V 

"  Every  syllable." 


OUR    HERO    TAKES    THE    HIGHWAY.  108 

u  What,  that  you  are  about  to  appear  on  the  stage  ?" 

"  I  do." 

"  You  are  not  going  to  Benton  to  join  the  company  ?" 

"  On  my  soul,  I  am  not." 

"  Or  wherever  the  company  may  act  ?  You  go  not  to  join 
Tilton  r 

"  I  know  nothing  of  the  man." 

"It  won't  do  —  that  cock  won't  fight,  Harry  Vernon,"  re 
sponded  the  other,  after  a  pause.  "  I  have  the  matter  on  good 
evidence.  Deny  it  as  you  may,  I  believe  it ;  begging  your 
pardon  for  seeming  to  doubt  you ;  but  the  truth  is,  that  all  the 
circumstances  tell  against  you.  1  am  sure  you  are  going  to  join 
Tilton,  and,  my  dear  fellow,  confess  the  truth  ;  you  will  not 
trust  me  with  your  secret,  for  fear  that  I  shall  blab  it  to  Ben 
Carter.  But,  on  my  honor — " 

"  Believe  what  you  will,  Mr.  Horsey,"  replied  the  other  with 
recovered  gravity.  "  I  have  no  sort  of  objection  to  any  strange 
notion  that  you  may  take  into  your  head ;  only,  I  pray  that 
you  may  not  bother  me  with  the  mare's  nests  that  you  may 
discover,  nor  challenge  my  admiration  of  the  eggs." 

"  You're  angry  with  me,  Harry.  Come,  my  dear  boy,  hand 
out  your  flask  again,  and  we'll  take  a  sup  of  reconciliation." 

"  No,  sir ;  I  will  let  you  drink  no  more  while  you  are  with 
me.  You  have  taken  a  mouthful  too  much  already." 

•'How,  sir,  do  you  mean — " 

The  swagger  of  the  worthy  histrion,  who  was  not  apt  to  be 
a  braggart,  and  was  in  truth  a  good-meaning  felloAv,  was  cut 
short  by  the  sudden  and  angry  interruption  of  his  more  solid 
and  resolute  companion  : — 

"  Look  you,  Mr.  Horsey,  my  road  lies  above,  and  yours  is 
below,  with  your  parents.  Let  us  separate." 

"  Nay,  nay,  Harry  Vernon ;  but  you  are  quite  too  hard  upon 
me.  Don't  be  vexed  with  me,  because  I  am  a  d — d  good- 
natured  fool,  that  loves  good  company  too  well  to  quarrel  with 
it.  I  don't  mean  to  vex  you,  but  I  am  resolved,  unless  you  put 
a  bullet  through  my  cranium,  to  keep  up  with  you  to  Benton. 
I'd  rather  lose  anything  short  of  life  than  lose  the  chance  of  a 
good  engagement.  So,  whither  thou  goest,  thither  will  I  go 
also — where  thou  leadest  there  will  !•  follow  —  at  least,  until 


104  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

the  manager  gives  out  the  casts,  and  then,  Harry,  as  thou  wilt, 
and  the  author  pleases." 

This  resolution,  though  it  annoyed  Vernon,  as  it  expressed  a 
determination  to  keep  with  him  whether  he  would  or  not,  and 
might  for  a  while  operate  against  his  objects,  was  yet  expressed 
in  terms  and  a  manner  so  very  conciliatory  and  the  poor 
histrion  seemed  so  completely  to  speak  from  his  heart,  that 
Vernon  resolved  to  bear  with  him  awhile,  nothing  doubting, 
that,  when  the  other  found,  as  he  was  like  to  do  in  another 
day,  that  his  footsteps  did  not  incline  to  the  place  where  the 
actors  had  pitched  their  tents,  he  would  be  very  willing  to  leave 
him  without  more  words.  He  contented  himself,  therefore,  with 
renewing  his  assertion  that  he  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
players,  and  that  Horsey  deceived  himself,  or  had  been  grossly 
misled  on  the  subject  of  his  inclining  to  the  stage.  But  the 
reasseveration  was  of  no  avail.  The  faith  was  infixed  too 
deeply,  and  with  a  chuckle,  as  he  mounted  his  nag,  the  enthusi 
astic  actor  replied  — 

•'  Oh,  what's  the  use,  Harry,  my  boy,  of  keeping  up  that 
ball  ?  It  must  come  down  sooner  or  later,  and  one  would  think 
you  would  be  weary  of  such  a  sport.  Let  this  humor  cool  — 
'  it  is  no  good  humors.'  Look  not  coldly  upon  me,  for,  on  my 
soul,  if  thou  wilt  have  it  so,  thou  shalt  have  the  choice  of  the 
cast  whatever  it  may  be,  and  as  for  little  Tilton,  he  shall  learn, 
as  a  first  lesson,  that  we  shall  neither  of  us  do  anything  for 
him,  unless  we  do  it  to  our  own  liking.  And  now  to  horse  — 
to  horse — 

'Wanton  ns  youthful  goats,  wild  as  young  bulb.'" 

It  was  scarcely  possible  for  Vernon  to  resist  laughter;  cer 
tainly,  he  found  it  impossible  to  keep  anger  with  such  a  crea 
ture  ;  a  thing  so  light,  so  weak,  so  utterly  wanting  in  all 
those  timely  calculations  of  propriety  and  good  providence, 
as  to  make  it  seem  a  sort  of  brutality  to  visit  upon  his  faults 
with  harshness.  They  took  horse  together,  and  while  they 
rode,  the  actor  seasoned  the  way  and  dialogue  with  quotations, 

"  Thick  as  leaves  in  Valambrossa." 

Vernon  strove  at  every  opportunity  to  disabuse  his  mind  of 
the  error  which  it  had  -adopted  in  reference  to  himself:  but  hit 


SUPPER   PROSPECTS.  106 

very  earnestness  seemed  only  the  more  to  convince  the  other  to 
the  contrary.  His  answer  to  all  such  efforts  consisted  only  of 
a  half-laughing  rebuke  to  his  companion,  who  aimed  at  the 
monopoly  of  the  best  character,  and  was  jealous  of  that  inter 
position  and  rivalship  on  his  part,  which  he  studiously  assured 
Vernon,  at  the  same  time,  should  never  annoy  him.  The  latter 
gave  up  the  effort  which  he  found  so  perfectly  unavailing, 
leavmg  it  to  time,  the  general  rectifier  of  man's  mistakes,  to 
put  a  conclusion  to  this. 


CHAPTER   IX 

SUPPER  PROSPECTS  —  BROWN  BESS A  COTTAGE  HEROINE- 
BLOOD  AN*  'OUNDS. 

"How  indirectly  all  things  are  fallen  outf 
I  can  not  choose  but  wonder  what  they  were, 

Rescued  your  rival 

—  If  I  fit  you  not 

With  such  a  new  and  well-laid  stratagem, 

As  never  yet  your  ears  did  hear  a  finer, 

Call  me  with  Lilly,  JBos,  Fur,  Sus  atque  Sacerdos." 

BEN  JONSON  —  Tale  of  a  Two. 

YOUTH  is  not  the  season  for  enduring  enmities.  That  is  a 
cold  heart  and  a  malignant  spirit  which  preserves  its  bitterness 
and  asperities  through  the  summer,  and  in  spite  of  all  its  sun 
shine.  Harry  Vernon,  besides  being  of  a  just  and  generous 
nature,  was  also  of  a  cheerful  and  social  one,  and  he  soon 
discovered  that  there  was  no  good  reason  for  keeping  up  a 
cloudy  front  to  the  vacillating  and  wayward  creature  who  rode 
beside  him,  and  whom  an  erring  judgment,  and,  probably,  fine 
but  misdirected  endowments,  were  hurrying  on  to  his  own 
destruction.  By  degrees  he  resumed  his  kindly  manner  to  the 
obtrusive  but  well-meaning  actor,  and  as  he  found  that  he  could 
not  rid  himself  of  his  company,  he  resolved  to  make  the  most 
of  it.  This  resolution  once  taken,  it  required  but  few  wordi 


lOd  BORDER    BEAftLRS. 

•  MI  i  he  part  of  V»>rn<>!i  to  unlock   all  >.•>  of  memory  and 

experience  in  Horsey's  possession.  Tho  erratic  creature,  from 
long  wandering  into  forbidden  places,  had  picked  up  a  whole 
sale,  if  not  wholesome,  collection  of  anecdote  and  story.  His 
imitative  faculties  were  good,  and  he  illustrated  his  scenes  by 
taking  off,  with  considerable  humor,  the  various  persons  who 
appeared  in  them.  Shakspere,  too,  was  at  his  fingers'  ejuls, 
and  there  was  no  lack  of  passages,  to  fill  out  his  own  remarks, 
and  enliven  their  deficiencies.  The  dog  read  well,  too,  with 
the  single  reservation,  that  he  had  not  yet  learned  that  nice 
and  most  necessary  art  of  all  —  that  art  which  scarcely  one  of 
our  artists  possesses  in  a  meritorious  degree  —  of  subduing  his 
utterance  to  the  demands  of  the  character,  and  the  capacities 
of  his  own  voice.  This  evil  results,  in  most  cases,  from  the  too 
great  size  of  the  theatre,  which,  as  it  calls  for  great  physical 
powers  of  voice,  must,  except  in  the  case  of  energies  singularly 
masculine,  for  ever  defeat  its  nicer  regulations. 

Horsey  had  throat  enough,  and  the  very  best  of  lungs,  and 
he  was  glad  of  any  opportunity  for  using  them.  The  woods 
soon  rang  with  his  sonorous  passages,  and  Vernon,  with  the 
feeling  of  the  cautious  citizen,  always  alive  to  ridicule,  could 
not  help  now  ar.d  then  looking  around  him,  as  if  apprehensive 
that,  other  ears  were  suffering  from  those  clamors  that  seemed 
almost  to  perforate  his  own  anew. 

These  declamations,  be  it  understood,  however,  were  not 
given  with  the  reckless  rapidity  of  one  who  has  nothing  beside 
in  store  of  his  own  ;  but  the  actor  ingeniously  contrived  that 
they  should  only  occur  in  such  places,  in  his  own  dissertations, 
where  they  might  enforce  and  illustrate  what  he  said.  This 
was  one  of  his  arts  additional,  by  which  he  contrived  that  his 
masterpieces  should  be  brought  into  play ;  and,  like  the  fellow 
who  had  a  gun-story,  and  in  order  to  introduce  it  fairly  into 
company,  acquired  the  art  of  imitating  the  report  of  a  pistol,  so 
Tom  Horsey  practised,  when  alone,  those  generalizing  opinions 
on  a  thousand  subjects,  under  some  one  of  which  he  could  always 
classify  the  fine  things  of  Brutus  and  Cassitis,  Hamlet,  Hotspur, 
and  Macbeth.  When,  with  a  generous  consideration  of  his 
companion,  and  a  moderation  which  few  great  talkers  are  jirrsno 
to  practise,  he  had  tired  himself  fairly  down,  lie  came  to  i.  halt 


S17PPEB    iMio.si'KCTS,  107 

and  declared  aloud  his  resolution  to  pause  in  time,  for  fear  he  should 
also  tire  down  his  hearer. 

"But,  could  you  hear  me,  Harry,  when  the  scene  is  filling, 
when  the  characters  are  by,  the  audience  silent  and  watchful, 
and  the  curtain  drawn — it  would  be  something.  You  would 
say  it  were  something,  and  that  I  were  no  insane  fool,  as  some 
of  dad's  friends  will  have  it,  and  Ben  Carter  among  them.  I 
feel  that  I  have  it  in  me,  Harry  Vernon,  and,  by  the  Lord 
Harry,  but  it  shall  come  out.  I  have  never  had  a  fair  chance 
yet,  but  the  time  must  come.  Hitherto,  they  have  taken  ad 
vantage  of  my  necessity,  and  I  have  been  compelled  to  walk 
through  wooden  parts,  which  I  scorned  to  move  in  with  any 
wasteful  animation  of  my  own.  Nothing  but  the  delight  of  be 
ing  upon  the  boards,  amid  the  blessed  blaze  of  lights  which  are 
nowhere  so  lovely  to  my  eyes  as  in  a  playhouse,  could  have 
made  me  endure  the  damnable  persecution  and  miserable  jeal 
ousies  of  those  poor,  incapable  creatures,  that  were  able  to  do 
nothing  themselves,  and  hated  the  very  sight  of  others  who  had 
it  in  them  to  do  everything.  I  could  tell  you  stories  of  the 
drudgery  of  the  stage,  of  the  malice  and  the  meanness  of  the. 
actors,  of  the  mercenary  baseness  of  managers,  their  impracti 
cability  and  insolence  when  successful,  and  their  d — d  dishon 
esty  when  otherwise,  which  would  shock  you  to  hear,  and 
which  you  could  scarcely  ever  believe.  But  you  \vill  learn  for 
yourself.  One  week  with  the  little  lamplighter — unless  you 
make  a  hit — and  then  you  can  snap  your  fingers  in  his  face, 
and  kick  him  with  your  worst  boots,  and  still  have  his  thanks 
— one  week  with  him,  however,  as  a  stock-player,  and  you  will 
curse  your  stars  that  endowed  you  with  faculties,  yet  left  them 
at  the  mercy  of  such  eternal  skunks  as  your  generality  of  man 
agers  are  sure  to  be.  But  let  us  bully  little  Tilton,  and  play 
our  own  characters,  work  our  way  up  the  Mississippi,  break  out 
like  little  comets  with  a  double  length  of  tail  in  Louisville  and 
Cincinnati,  and,  by-and-by  touch  the  Park  boards — the  zenith 
of  theatrical  eminence  in  America,  where  Mr.  Kean  told  us, 
with  an  equivocal  sort  of  compliment,  that  the  taste  for  the 
drama  was  periodical — and  then,  the  devil  take  the  hindmost 
— hey-,  for  the  crown  and  the  triumph,  the  chariots  and  the  horse 
man — 


BORDER   BEAGLES. 

•  *"A  kingdom  for  ;\  ^'-.\^< — j-i-inc,--  fo  net, 

Ami  rnonarchs  to  oehuld  tin:  &ut-ii;ng  scene.' " 

"  Supper  first,"  said  Vernon,  "or  I  shall  never  sufficiently 
ascend  that  highest  heaven  of  invention,  to  behold  with  you  so 
respectable  an  audience,  or  to  regard  it  with  any  sort  of  satis 
faction  when  1  do  so.  Look  ahead  —  see  you  ?iothiner  of  a  log 
house  ?  There  should  be  one  on  the  left,  a  little  in  the  woods. 
That  must  be  our  baiting-place  to-night;  and,  if  you  will  prick 
up  your  beast,  Mr.  Horsey,  which,  in  your  own  industry,  you 
have  been  indulging  long  enough,  we  shall  probably  avoid 
the  prospect,  of  which  there  is  some  present  danger,  of  being 
compelled  to  sleep  in  Big  Black  swamp  to-night,  with  nothing 
but  Shakspere  to  keep  us  warm  or  satisfy  our  hunger." 

"  And  enough,  too.  He  has  kept  me  warm  and  been  my  only 
supper  many  a  night.  But,  I  do  see  something  of  an  opening, 
and  it  is  to  the  left.  By  the  ghost  of  David,  Harry  Vernon,  an' 
if  it  slial!  be  a  large  one,  we'll  have  a  few  passages  —  we'll  make 
a  rouse.  '  Because  thou  art  virtuous  shall  there  be  no  more  cakes 
and  ale!'  —  it  is  a  house  —  'ay,  and  ginger  shall  be  hot  i'  the 
mouth  too.'  " 

j.  "Husli!"  said  Vernon,  with  singular  gravity.  "Be  still,  if 
you  do  not  want  to  lose  every  chance  of  supper.  Chickens  in 
these  -parts  take  to  the  woods  whenever  they  hear  or  see  a 
stranger  —  they  know,  poor  devils,  by  a  sort  of  instinct,  the 
fate  that  awaits  them." 

"  'Gad,  if  that  be  true,  it  is  a  very  singular  fact.     Are  you 
,  serious,  Master  Vernon  V1 

'  Serious  !  Do  you  think  I  could  jest  about  such  a  matter  I 
But,  see  —  there's  the  woman  of  the  house.  She  must  have 
heaid  you  the  last  three  miles.  If  not  utterly  out  of  voice  from 
your  late  exertions,  you  will  perhaps  be  the  best  spokesman 
here.  See  if  we  nan  get  beds  and  bacon  —  the  chickens,  I  sup 
pose,  unless  she  has  them  in  coop  already,  can  not  be  though  i 
of." 

"  A  very  singular  fact !"  muttered  Horsey,  as  giving  spur  tQ 
his  steed,  he  led  the  way  to  the  wigwam,  leaving  Vernon  U 
follow  at  his  leisure. 

"Accommodations!"  said  the  woman,  who  was  a  somewhat 
ill-favored  person,  probably  forty  years  of  age,  having  a  face 


SUPPER   PEOSPECTS  —  BROWN    BESS.  IDS 

sober  and  grave  even  to  sternness,  and  speaking  in  accents  slow, 
harsh,  and  indifferent  —  have  I  accommodations  for  two  for  the 
night  ?  Yes,  sir,  I  have ;  but  they  are  none  of  the  best,  and 
neither  of  you  gentlemen  would  be  much  the  better  of  them. 
Perhaps,  you'd  better  ride  farther,  and  you'll  be  suited  belter. 
The  night's  clear  enough,  though  it  be  cool,  and,  if  you're  go 
ing  to  strike  for  the  lower  ferry,  you'll  get  a  place  to  lie  at,  ten 
miles  ahead.  The  upper  ferry-house  is  farther  on,  but  not 
much,  and  the  road's  pretty  clear  in  a  starlight.  You'd  better 
ride  on,  I'm  thinking." 

"Nay,  my  good  madam,  that  will  hardly  suit  is,"  replied 
Vernon,  riding  up  — "  we  have  already  ridden  near  forty  miles 
to-day,  having  come  from  Raymond,  and  I  am  resolved,  unless 
you  positively  deny  us  shelter,  to  go  no  farther  to-night." 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  deny  you,  sir ;  I  only  tell  you  how  little 
we  can  do  here  to  make  you  comfortable.  We're  mighty  poor 
ueople  in  these  parts,  and  have  little  to  give  strangers  to  make 
Jiein  satisfied.  Now,  ten  miles  beyond — " 

"  No  more,  my  gooa  madam,"  said  Vernon,  alighting  from 
his  horse;  "we  stop  with  you  to-night;  and  the  sooner  you 
give  us  supper  the  better.  In  the  meantime,  you  can  tell  my 
friend  here  what  I  have  already  told  him,  that  your  chickens 
have  already  taken  to  the  woods." 

"Chickens--" 

The  speech  of  the  woman  was  cut  short  by  Horsey,  who  had 
been  steadily  watching  her  features  with  an  air  of  interest,  and 
who  now  advanced,  laid  his  hand  on  her  shoulder,  with  a  de 
gree  of  familiarity  that  made  her  start  and  look  disquieted,  if 
not  angry,  as  she  strove  to  withdraw  herself  from  so  great  a 
freedom.  This,  however,  he  v'ould  not  oiiffer. 

"  By  the  cut  of  your  teeth,  as  the  cheese  said  to  the  mousn,  1 
w  you,  my  worthy  professor  of  sassafras  and  gunja.     Bn/wn 
Clayton,  as  I  live  !" 

"  And  who  are  you,  young  mister,  that's  so  free  with  my 
name- -my  name  that  was,  I  mean  —  for  though  I'm  Brown 
Bess,  I'm  no  Clayton  now?  What's  your  name  ?" 

"Why,  Bess,  you're  getting  old,  my  girl  —  your  memory's 
failing  you.     Don't  you  remember  me  —  dor.'t  you  remember  . 
little  Tom  Horsey,  that  was  your  best  customer  when  you 


110  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

cakes  and  beer  at  Hogler's  mill  —  that  burst  your  bottles  bj 
shaking,  and  punched  your  cakes  out  of  the  tray  by  a  long  pole 
sharpened  at  the  end  ?" 

"Yes,  and  got  punched  for  it  himself,"  responded  the  woman, 
is  these  reminiscences  of  Horsey  awakened  her  own  "And  is 
rt  you,  Tom — little  Tom,  indeed?  Why,  ysu  c&.i  eat  your 
cakes  now  off  my  shoulder." 

"  Ay,  Bess,  and  a  bit  of  the  shoulder  with  it  when  I  happen 
to  be  so  hungry  as  I  am  just  now.  And  so  you're  married  — 
and  who  did  you  marry,  Bess?  —  I  hav'n't  heard  of  you  for 
these  ten  long  years." 

"  But  I've  heard  tell  of  you,  Tom  Horsey.  They  said  you'd 
gone  crazy ;  and  that  didn't  seem  strange,  for  you  always  had 
a  little  twist  in  your  understanding,  and  couldn't  do  things  jist 
like  other  people." 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  such  a  defamation  of  genius  ?"  exclaimed 
Horsey  to  Vcrnon  in  a  manner  of  affected  misery.  *«  But  go  on, 
Bess.  What  did  you  hear  /" 

"Why,  they  said  as  how  you  had  turned  fair  fool,  and  how 
they'd  got  you  down  among  the  player  people  at  Orleans,  and 
how  they  dressed  you  up  in  a  jacket  and  breeches,  full  of  colors 
and  spangles — " 

"  My  Romeo,  by  the  shade  of  Juliet !" 

"  And  how,"  continued  the  woman,  "  they  brought  you  out 
before  the  company,  and  worried  you,  jist  like  so  many  curs 
worrying  a  pig  that  had  got  into  the  'tater  patch — " 

"Exquisite  comparison,  by  my  soul !" 

"  And  how  they  all  stuck  at  you  with  their  swords,  and  how 
you  fell  down  and  pretended  to  be  dead,  and  then  how  they 
dragged  you  out  by  the  heels;  while  everybody,  men  and 
women,  little  and  big,  laughed  as  if  they  would  split.  After 
that  I  heard  no  more  of  you,  and  concluded  you  wore  dead  for 
good." 

"  For  good,  say  you  ?"  exclaimed  the  actor,  as  the  woman 
concluded.  "Well,  Vernon,  only  think  now  that  this  is  the 
representation  of  one  of  my  best  performances  — my  debut  hi 
Macbeth,  for  my  benefit  —  when  it  so  happened  that  a  cargo  of 
Islrmaelites  irom  Pearl  river,  that  had  crossed  Ponchartrain 
that  day,  came  to  the  '  American,'  with  '  every  particular  bail 


BROWN   BESS.  Ill 

on  end,'  to  see  their  « old  schoolfellow,  Tom  Horsey,  son  of 
John  Horsey,  the  lame  man  that  kept  tavern  on  the  river-road  :' 
and  this  is  the  d — nable  report  which  they  carried  hack  to  the 
country  in  their  ignorance  and  envy.  Is  it  not  a  most  abomina 
ble  trait  in  man,  that  he  hates  to  see  his  neighbor's  successes  ? 
Every  whipster  with  whom  he  ever  hunted  'possum  in  a  dark 
night,  or  shelled  corn  in  husking-time,  is  ready  to  disparage 
those  talents  which  he  can  not  rival,  and  to  pull  down  that 
merit  in  a  companion  which  he  thinks  —  and  it  is  —  a  sarcasm 
upon  his  own  deficiencies.  By  Pompey's  ghost,  it  is  my  own 
people  that  have  ever  been  the  first  to  decry  my  performances, 
and  to  wrest  from  me  the  just  rewards  of  my  labors." 

"  Well,  don't  you  be  running  down  the  Pearl  river  people, 
Tom  Horsey ;  they're  a  mighty  good  sort  of  people,  Tom,  and 
I  only  wish  I  was  back  ag'in  among  'em,"  said  the  woman. 

"  Selling  cakes  and  beer  V1  said  Tom. 

"  Why,  yes,  sellin*  cakes  and  beer ;  it's  a  mighty  good  busi 
ness  for  the  time  it  lasts." 

"  Five  months  at  least,  Bess  —  I  remember  all  about  it — from 
May  to  September,  and,  if  the  season  was  very  warm,  a  month 
longer.  'Gad  !  rny  picayunes  melted  as  rapidly  in  those  months, 
when  I  was  a  boy,  as  my  Mexicans  have  continued  to  melt  ever 
since  I  was  a  man." 

"There  was  another  thing,  Tom,  that  they  told  about  you," 
said  the  woman. 

"  What  was  that  ?"  quickly  demanded  the  actor. 

"  Why,  that  you  spent  your  father's  money  a  deuced  sight 
fastei  .thp.n  he  could  make  it,  and  that  you  are  a  mighty  great — " 

"  Say  no  more,  Brown  Bess ;  leave  it  where  it  is,  at  the 
1  mighty  great.' " 

"  Riprobate,  I  was  going  to  say  "  continued  the  matter-of-fact 
woman  ;  "  and  I  reckon,  Tom,  it  ie  not  far  from  the  right  word  " 

"  Perhaps  not,  Bess ;  but  no  more  of  that  an'  thou  lovest  me  : 
I  am  reformed  now  —  grown  quite  sober  —  never  drink  unless 
when  the  spirit  moves,  and  I  expect  soon  to  confess  a  working 
of  mind  as  active  as  ever  was  your  beer,  whenever  I  can  meet 
with  old  brother  Abrams — " 

"Why  he's  dead!  —  dead  five  years  ago!"  exclaimed  tha 
womaii. 


112  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

"  Dead,  you  say !  Who  could  have  thought  it.  Why  h« 
was  the  last  regular  preacher  that  I  ever  heard.  It  makes  me 
melancholy  to  think  of  it ;  so  let's  in  to  supper,  Vernon,  with 
what  appetite  we  may.  You're  married,  Bess  ?  Where's  your 
husband,  and  what  is  he — what's  his  name?" 

A  dark  cloud  rose  arid  rested  on  the  woman's  brow  as  slit* 
heard  this  question,  which  she  answered  slowly  and  briefly. 

"His  name's  Yarbers  —  he's  a  middle  aged  man, that'll  be  in, 
1  reckon,  directly.  But  I'm  truly  thinking,  Tom,  that  you  and 
the  other  gentleman  had  much  better  ride  on  to  the  other  house 
It's  a  short  ten  miles,  and  an  easy  road." 

"  Can't  think  of  it,  Bess ;  by  the  soul  and  substance  of  the 
fat  knight,  I  can  not.  We  must  partake  of  your  hog  and 
hominy  to-night ;  and  I'm  surprised,  Bess,  that  you  seek  to 
send  us  forward  without  supper.  You  were  not  wont  to  be  so 
inhospitable.  Marriage  has  changed  you,  Bess." 

"  I  reckon  it  has,  Tom,"  said  the  woman,  "  but  I'm  not  want 
ing  you  to  go  without  supper.  I  could  get  it  ready  for  you  in 
a  short  five  minutes,  and  you  might  easily  ride  then." 

"  By  the  Lord  Harry,  Bess,  but  this  is  altogether  too  bad  ! 
What !  pack  us  off  the  moment  we've  swallowed  our  coffee,  on 
a  long  road  in  a  dark  night.  I  1?11  you,  Bess,  it  won't  do.  We 
sleep  in  your  house  to-night  by  the  peepers  of  that  blessed 
saint  Monajahadjee,  of  the  Chickasaws,  that  slept  every  day 
in  the  week  but  the  eighth,  and  never  opened  one  eye,  unless 
it  was  to  see  if  the  other  was  shut." 

"  Well,  just  as  you  will,  Tom,  but,  perhaps,  the  other  gen 
tieman  here  ? — " 

"The  other  gentleman  here  is  my  Cast :r;  we  are  Castor 
and  Pollux,  the  inseparables.  He  never  goes  without  me,  and 
I  never  go  without  him,  and  so,  strange  as  it  may  seem  to  you, 
we  never  go  without  one  another.  If  we  never  go  without  oun 
another,  we  also  never  stay  without  one  another,  and,  Bess,  1 
have  drawn  this  proposition  almost  syllogistically  to  you,  in 
order  that  you  should  understand  that  we  shall  sleep  together 
i/.  the  same  bed,  provided  you  can  not  spare  us  one  apiece." 

"  Ah,  Tom,  you're  the  same  rattlepate  that  you  ever  was 
and  the  older  you  grow,  the  wiser  you  don't  grow.  I  cun't  UB 
derstand  the  half  you  say." 


BROWN    BESS.  113 

v<  Not  understand  !  Did  ever  one  hear  the  like,  when  I 
stated  the  case  with  singular  simplicity  in  order  that  you  should 
understand." 

'  Well,  well,"  responded  the  woman,  "  hut  let  Mr.  Castor 
speak  for  himself.  He  don't  say  much,  and  I  reckon  it'll  be 
the  easier  for  me  to  understand  him.  I  was  saying,  sir,"  here 
she  addressed  herself  to  Vernon,  "  I  was  saying,  Mr.  Castor—  ' 

"  Ha !  ha  !  ha  !"  was  the  ecstatic  roar  of  Horsey,  who  made 
no  attempt  to  correct  the  error. 

"  Vernon  is  my  name,"  said  his  companion  gravely.  The  old 
woman  gave  Horsey  a  single  look  of  reproof,  then  turning  to 
Vernon,  proceeded  to  repeat  what  she  had  already  said  touch 
ing  the  propriety  of  his  riding  to  the  next  tavern,  which  was  at 
the  lower  ferry,  and  only  ten  miles  off,  for  his  night's  lodging. 
Her  reason  for  so  singular  a  suggestion  arose  from  the  alleged 
poverty  of  her  accommodations. 

•;  There  is  something  strange  in  all  this ;  there  is  something 
secret  here,"  was  the  unexpressed  thought  of  Vernon,  and  he 
drew  his  conclusion  as  much  from  the  earnest  yet  bewildered 
countenance  of  the  woman,  as  from  her  words.  His  self-com 
munion  went  farther  :  "  I  am  on  the  borders  of  the  Chittaloosa, 
and  my  labors  should  now  properly  begin.  Every  mystery  may 
have  mine  in  its  keeping,  and  I  must  search  it  if  I  can..  This 
woman,  it  is  evident,  would  send  me  off  rather  than  Horsey.  I 
will  stay." 

He  spoke  this  determination  aloud. 

"  Mr.  Horsey  has  spoken  for  both  of  us,  Mrs.  Yarbers,  and  we 
must  stay  with  you  to-night.  Forty  miles  is  rather  more  of  a 
journey  than  a  horse  should  be  made  to  bear  who  is  going  to  a 
swamp  country,  and  I  am  almost  as  anxious  for  sleep  as  sup 
per." 

"  Well,  if  you  will,"  said  the  old  woman  ungraciously,  as  she 
ushered  them  into  the  hall,  and  summoned  a  negro-girl  to  take 
the  horses  to  the  stable.  The  saddle-bags,  valise,  and  saddles, 
were  carried  into  the  house.  The  travellers  drew  chairs,  rough, 
country-made,  high-backed,  and  seated  with  untanned  deer-skins 
stretched  across  and  tacked  beneath  ;  while  the  old  lady,  open 
ing  a  wooden  cupboard  of  plain  pine  that  was  fastened  by  pegs 
o  the  rear  wall,  drew  forth  a  couple  of  common  iunk  bottles. 


114  BORDER    EKAGLES. 

one  of  which,  as  she  said,  contained  Monongahela,  and  the  other 
honey,  as  a  sweetener. 

"  A  dram  will  comfort  you  after  your  ride,  Tom,  though  if 
you  drink  whiskey  as  freely  as  you  used  to  drink  the  sassafras, 
you'll  have  an  enemy  in  your  head  that'll  be  sure  soon  to  trip 
your  heels." 

"  I  am  commanded  to  love  mine  enemies,  Bess,  but  I  try  to 
weaken  them  a  little,  so  that  our  wrestle  shall  be  even ;  there's 
no  water  here  ?" 

"  Mary's  gone  for  some  to  the  spring,  Tom  ;  my  darter  Mary  , 
she'll  be  here  in  a  shake." 

"You've  a  daughter,  too,  eh?  What  sort  of  a  girl  is  she, 
Bess  ?  A  good,  smart,  active,  little  creature,  I  suppose,  a  — 

The  door  opened,  and  the  sudden  appearance  of  the  daugh 
ter  in  question,  silenced  the  speech,  and  utterly  confounded  the 
speaker  for  an  instant,  as  he  found  himself  confronted  by  as  tall 
and  pretty  an  adversary  in  the  shape  of  a  damsel,  as  ever  met 
the  eyes  yet  of  an  enthusiastic  and  self-assured  young  man. 
He  started  to  his  feet,  caught  the  vessel,  which  she  bore,  from 
^er  hands,  a  little  clean  white  piggin  with  a  gourd  hanging 
apon  the  handle;,  and  setting  it  down  upon  the  shelf  which  was 
placed  for  it,  exclaimed,  all  in  a  breath  — 

"This  your  daughter,  Bess? — this  your  Mary?  — by  the 
Oapulets,  but  she  is  the  very  Juliet  of  the  host.  I  must  have 
a  kiss,  Mrs.  Yarbers — for  auld  lang  syne,  Bess  —  by  all  the 
damask  roses  that  ever  tried  to  look  like  those  cheeks,  and 
faded  out  of  envy.  I  must,  Mary  —  why,  Mary,  I  am  your 
mother's  old  friend  —  I'm  your  great  uncle,  Mary,  an  innocent 
old  man — you  need  not  fear  me,  I  must  —  there's  no  use  —  I 
must." 

The  girl,  who  was  probably  not  more  than  sixteen,  perhaps 
not  that,  retreated  with  no  less  dignity  than  modesty,  while, 
between  jest  and  earnest,  her  mother  expostulated  with  the 
bashaw ;  but  it  is  probable  that  neither  the  reluctance  and  pos 
sible  flight  of  the  damsel,  nor  the  expostulations  of  the  mother, 
would  have  availed  to  protect  her  from  the  parental  tenderness 
of  the  venerable  man,  but  for  the  sudden  interposition  of  another 
party,  whose  mode  of  proceeding  was  of  a  more  summary  and 
imposing  character.  The  door  opened  while  th'e  strife  was  at 


THE   COTTAGE   HEKOINE.  11 6 

fhe  warmest,  and  the  husband  of  the  dame  entered,  followed  by 
a  sturdy  youth  of  about  twenty  years  of  age.  Horsey  \vas  too 
much  interested  by  the  game  in  hand  to  look  behind  him,  and 
it  was  only  when  the  youth,  without  a  word,  passed  in  front, 
and  placed  himself  between  him  and  the  maiden,  that  he  be- 
*.ame  conscious  of  the  unexpected  interruption  of  his  desirea. 
The  intruder's  presence  seemed  almost  as  much  annoying  to 
Mary  as  to  the  enamored  actor.  She  shrunk  back  with  quite 
as  much  promptness  from  her  champion  as  from  her  assailant, 
and  this  movement  probably  encouraged  Horsey  with  the  idea 
that  his  chances  were  even  better  now  than  before. 

"My  worthy  rustic,"  said  he,  "give  me  but  a  moment;  an 
other  time  I  will  acknowledge  your  presence,  but  just  at  this 
time  —  nay,  stand  aside,  I  pray  you,  that  I  may  do  grace  to  the 
lips  of  that  little  Juliet  there  —  a  moment — but  a  moment." 

Suiting  thi  action  to  the  word,  Horsey  put  forth  his  hand, 
intending,  Avith  the  utmost  gentleness,  to  put  him  aside  from  his 
path ;  but  his  hand  had  scarcely  touched  the  shoulder  of  the 
other,  when,  putting  forth  all  his  strength,  he  planted  a  blow 
between  the  eyes  of  the  actor,  that  gave  him  a  very  comical 
vision  of  two  crossed  rainbows,  the  ends  of  which  were  most 
singularly  tied  together.  Down  he  fell  like  a  bullock  in  the 
same  instant,  and  his  prompt  enemy  jumped  upon  him,  and 
twining  his  little  finger  in  the  locks  of  the  fallen  man,  prepared 
to  thrust  his  thumb  into  his  eyes. 

"  Touch  my  eyes,  man,  and  I  put  you  to  death  as  sure  as  a 
catastrophe,"  exclaimed  Horsey,  characteristically,  as  the  effort 
of  the  other  had  brought  him  to  all  his  consciousness.  The 
fellow  would  scarce  have  heeded  his  threats,  but  by  this  time 
the  vigorous  arm  of  Verridn  had  grasped  him  about  the  middle, 
and  flung  him  to  the  other  end  of  the  room.  We  have  omitted 
the  screams  of  the  women,  which  were  as  loud  as  usual,  and  as 
rightly  timed.  Nor  have  we  deemed  it  necessary  to  say  that 
old  Yarbers — a  fellow  almost  overcome  with  fat  —  offered  sun 
dry  expostulations  to  the  course  of  his  companion,  which,  how- 
ever,  as  he  never  hurried  to  enforce  them,  were  as  little  heeded 
by  the  fierce  young  rustic  as  were  the  screams  aforesaid. 

The  effect  <>f  Vornon's  movement  was  more  obvious,  The 
youth  glared  now  upon  him  and  now  upon  Horsey,  who  had 


116 


BORDER  BEAGLES. 


taken  advantage  of  the  interval  to  recover  his  feet,  as  if  doubt 
ful  which  to  attack.  His  hesitation  resulted  from  no  want  oi 
hostile  feeling,  but  simply  from  the  consciousness  that  there 
were  tsvo  to  contend  with  now;  and  one  of  them,  however  easy 
he  found  it  to  trip  the  heels  of  the  other,  had  convinced  him  that 
the  play  in  his  case  could  never  be  all  of  one  side.  While  he 
stood  glowering  and  glaring,  Vernon,  like  a  man  satisfied  that 
he  had  done  all  that  was  required,  resumed  his  seat,  and  with 
the  assistance  of  the  woman  of  the  house,  made  such  an  ac 
quaintance  with  its  master,  as  suited  the  relation  of  guest  and 
landlord.  The  good  humor  of  Horsey  did  something  to  restore 
the  quiet  of  the  rest. 

"  Young  'un,"  said  he,  "  you've  bloodied  my  nose,  and  done 
it  tolerably  well,  with  some  skill,  but  scarcely  with  sufficient 
firmness.  That  up  and  down  blow,  though  it  would  fell  an  o* 
if  hit  squarely  between  the  eyes,  is  a  monstrous  dangerous  one 
if  the  enemy  is  watchful.  It  leaves  your  whole  side  exposed, 
all  your  ribs,  not  to  speak  of  your  diaphragm,  a  blow  in 
which  would  make  a  fat  man  uncomfortable  for  life.  You, 
sir,"  turning  to  Yarbers,  "  you  would  find  a  blow  .in  your  dia 
phragm  a  singular  inconvenience." 

"Ay,  sir,  or  anywhere  else,"  said  the  person  addressed,  with 
a  good-humored  laugh,  and  scarcely  knowing  how  to  understand 
the  strange  creature  who  confronted  him. 

"  And  now,  Mary,"  continued  the  actor,  stopping  the  blood 
with  his  handkerchief,  as  it  still  continued  to  issue  from  his 
nose,  "  you  were  the  cause,  though  the  innocent  cause,  of  this 
young  rustic's  incivility.  You  must  help  me  to  some  water, 
that  I  may  remove  '  this  filthy  witness  from  my  hands'  —  and 
nose.  *  This  is  a  sorry  sight,'  Harry.  By  the  way,  I  must  not 
forget  to  thank  you,  Harry,  for  taking  that  fellow's  fingers  from 
rny  eyes." 

"If  you  don't  mind  how  you  talk,  stranger,  I'll  put  'em  there 
again,"  said  the  other,  his  wrath  duly  increasing  with  the  tim 
ing  composure  and  good  humor  of  Horsey. 

"  I  hope  not,"  replied  the  latter,  "  as  well  for  your  sake  as 
mine.  Had  you  succeeded,  my  good  fellow,  in  your  first  at 
tempt,  you'd  have  been,  by  this  time,  on  the  longest  journey 
that  von  hnve  ever  taken  in  vour  life,  and  (|oubtful  whether 


THE   COTTAGE   HEROINE.  117 

you'd  have  found  easy  ferriage  across  the  liver,  unless  your  pocket  is 
lined  with  more  picayunes  than  I  think  it  holds  at  present.  What, 
my  lovely  Juliet,  you  have  the  water,  have  .you  ? v 

"There's  the  piggin,  Mr.  Horsey,  and  here's  the  towel,  sir,"  said 
the  damsel,  whose  sympathies  for  the  hurts  which  he  bore  so  good- 
humoredly,  seemed  to  have  made  her  less  shy  of  him  than  she  had 
shown  herself  at  first. 

"So  you  know  my  name  already,  Chuck — a  good  name,  Juliet- - 
and  your  mother  knew  it  many  days  before  you,  though  I  must  have 
known  you  once.  There— there's  a  spot  still,  my  Juliet ! "  he  ex 
claimed,  as,  having  wiped  his  face,  he  placed  the  towel  upon  her 
hand,  and  before  she  could  be  conscious  of  his  design,  throw  his 
arm  about  her  waist  and  inflicted  upon  "her  cheek  as  unequivocal 
a  smack  as  ever  came  from  the  hasty  application  of  lip  to  lip. 
The  young  gallant  was  again  in  anus,  but  Horsey  was  ready  for 
him  ;  and  the  father,  probably  dreading  that  the  latter  would  use 
some  weapon  in  the  strife,  as  he  had  already  intimated,  inter 
posed  his  authority  with  sufficient  promptitude  to  prevent  the  en 
counter. 

"If  we  don't  get  angry,  Mr.  Mabry,  I  wonder  why  should  you? 
Besides,  this  gentleman's  an  old  friend  of  Bess,  and  Mary's  but  a 
child  to  him." 

"Not  so  fast  — not  so  fast,  old  gentleman!"  cried  Horsey, 
who  was  considerably  nettled  at  this  imperfect  sort  of  chroni 
cling;  "a  child,  indeed— a  woman,  a  fine,  lovely,  ripe,  bewitch 
ing  damsel,  this  same  Mary  of  yours.  She's  no  more  a  child 
than  I'm  a  grandfather.  Now  I  come  to  think  of  it,  there  can't 
be  much  difference  between  us  in  age  —  not  so  much  as  to 
make  a  difference  in  any  material  respect.  Let  me  see,  she's 
about  sixteen,  and  — egad,  Mrs.  Yarbers,  it  can't  be  more  than 
fifteen  years  since  I  bought  cakes  from  you  at  Hoglcr's,  and  I 
going  to  Hugh  Feters's  school.  I  was  only  ten  then  — sixteen 
and  ten  — why  do  you  talk  of  her  being  but  a  child  to  me? 
Count  for  yourself— sixteen  and  ten  are  twenty-six  all  the  world 
over,  except  Connecticut,  where,  .they  say,  it  -counts  more  — 
and  I'll  take  Bible  oath  I'm  not  a  syllable  older.  What  say  you 
to  that,  sir?  There's  no  young  woman  of  sixteen  in  Missis 
sippi,  who,  if  she  has  any  sense,  will  find  fault  .with  a  man  of 
twenty-six." 


118  BORDER   BEAi*LS&. 

Verne  n  was  amused  at  the  pains  which  the  actor  took  b« 
vindicate  his  youth;  and  the  result  of  his  calculations  seemed 
still  farther  to  increase  the  annoyance  of  his  rusnc  rival,  who> 
after  a  little  while  spent  in  a  condition  of  fever-heat,  got  up  and 
left  the  room.  He  was  followed  out  by  old  Yarbers.  Mean 
while,  Horsey  continued  a  playful  chat  with  the  mother  and 
daughter — his  philosophy  under  his  bruises  seemii.g  to  com 
mend  him  to  additional  favor,  and  both  listening  to  him  with 
pleased  attention.  But,  catching  the  eye  of  Veri.on,  in  the 
midst  of  one  his  random  speeches,  he  made  him  a  sign,  then 
rising,  declared  his  intention  to  see  what  sort  eft  night  it  was, 
and  left  the  house.  Vernon  soon  followed. 


OF  # 

^ 

CHAPTER    X. 

CLOSING    UP    PEEPERS    ACCORDING    TO    "THE    SCIENCE" — HOW 
TO    SQUARE    OFF    WITH    A    BULLY    BOY. 

Lycus.  That  spark  jealousy  falling  into  his  dry  melancholy  brain,  ha« 
well  near  set  the  whole  house  on  fire. 

TItarsalio.  No  matter,  let  it  work ;  I  did  but  pay  him  iu's  own  coin.- 
GEO.  CHAPMAN. 

"  I  AM  decidedly  one  of  the  best-natured  mortals  in  exist 
ence,"  said  Horsey,  when  Vernon  joined  him  in  the  little  area 
in  front  of  the  cottage,  "  but  there  is  something,  Harry,  in  be 
ing  knocked  over,  that  would  turn  the  sweet  milk  sour  in  fl*e 
best  of  bosoms.  I  bore  with  this  thing  as  patiently  as  possible 
while  in  the  presence  of  the  women  folk,  but  my  gall  has  i«orn 
rising  for  the  last  half  hour,  and  I  can  stomach  it  no  longer.  It 
must  out,  and  nothing  will  help  me,  Harry,  but  a  clip  or  two  at 
the  muzzle  of  this  same  Master  Mabry.  You  must  stand  by 
and  see  fair  play  while  I  give  him  quits.  Doubt  not  that  I  can 
do  it,  Harry.  '  I  have  the  back  trick  simply  as  strong  as  any 
man  in  Illyria.' " 

"  Tt  will  make  matters  worse,  Horsey.     You  were  \mmg  in 


CLOSING    UP    PEEPERS. 


pressing  upon  t!u>  girl  «t  lirst.      She  is  somotliinj-  movp  than* 
child,  and  the  customs  of  our  country  —  " 

"A  know  all  that,  Harry,  and  had  I  riot  been  a  sort  of  chicken 
under  the  wyigs,  at  one  time,  of  the  good  old  clucking  hen,  her 
mother,  1  had,  perhaps,  never  thought  of  kissing  the  girl; 
though,  by  the  divinity  of  Rosalind,  there's  justification  enough 
in  the  lips  themselves  for  the  rashness  of  my  pursuit.  The 
guilt  is  equal  between  the  tempter  and  the  tempted.  She  who 
pouts  a  pretty  mouth  under  one's  nose  can  no  more  blame  a 
body  for  snatching  a  civil  kiss  from  the  offender,  than  you  can 
blame  a  hawk  for  stooping  down  upon  a  plump  partridge  that 
runs  too  freely  from  under  the  briers,  and  tempts  the  appetite  it 
is  yet  unwilling  to  satisfy." 

"  You  are  supported  in  this  notion,"  said  Vernon,  with  a 
smile,  "  by  an  authority  no  less  moral  than  that  of  Dr.  Johnson, 
who  says  that  if  you  tempt  a  man  you  do  him  an  injury,  and  if 
you  overcome  him  you  share  his  guilt.  His  view  is  also  sus 
tained  by  the  decision  of  an  English  justice,  who  once  com 
mitted  the  master  to  prison  for  laying  money  in  the  servant's 
way,  and  at  the  same  time  discharged  the  servant  who  stole  it." 

"  'Gad,  Harry,  thost  were  wise  fellows.  If  I  had  known  so 
much  could  be  said  in  my  favor,  I  had  not  stopped  short  at  a 
single  kiss.  That  man,  Johnson,  didn't  he  once  write  a  play  ?" 

"Yes  —  a  tragedy  —  " 

"  I'll  read  it  —  a  devilish  clever  sort  of  fellow.  A  fellow  that 
knows  so  well  how  to  justify  a  kiss,  must  have  made  a  very 
amorous  piece  of  business  of  it.  Wasn't  it  so,  Harry  'I" 

"  Nay  —  quite  the  contrary,  I  believe.  The  play  was  rather 
£  cold  performance-—  the  author  was  a  phlegmatic,  It  does  not 
follow,  you  know,  that  a  good  judge  is  a  good  performer  ;  and 
to  kiss  a  pretty  woman  is  a  movement  of  one's  blood  rathei 
than  his  thought  —  an  instinct,  not  a  reflection.  But  —  to  return 
to  our  subject.  You  can  gain  but  a  paltry  satisfaction,  Mr. 
Horsey,  by  punishing  this  young  man  ;  and  I  should  say,  judg 
ing  from  mere  appearances,  that  he  is  too  stout  for  you.''  He 
has  more  brawn  and  muscle,  and  though  not  so  tali  is  a  much 
heavier  man." 

"You  shall  see,  Harry.  I  have  what  he  has  not.  I  have 
the  trick  of  fence,  and  I  have  played  long  enough  with  muffles 


120  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

D  venture  a  little  uprm  the  hare  mutt  on.  The  stage  if-1  no  bad 
s  houl  for  acquiring  agility  of  motion  in  foot  and  list  —  a  keen 
eye  and  sudden  thrust  makes  me  more  than  a  match  for  this  pud- 
ILig-headed  fellow,  as  I  shall  convince  him  no  less  than  yourself, 
\vhrn  i  have  laid  eyes  on  him  for  awhile.  Here  is  the  path 
which  I  suppose  will  lead  ns  on  their  route,  part  of  which  I 
naw  through  the  window.  They  made  for  yonder  thicket, 
where,  I  reckon,  AVC  shall  find  them." 

"  I  will  stand  by  you,"  said  Vernon,  with  recovered  gravity, 
"  and  see  you  through  with  this  business,  but  while  we  keep 
together,  Mr.  Horsey,  I  trust,  for  my  sake,  you  will  provoke  no 
more  difficulties.  I  have  some  right  to  expostulate  with  you,  I 
think,  as  you  have  constituted  yourself  my  companion,  not 
merely  without  my  desire,  but  against  my  wish.  My  objects 
in  this  country  are  such  as  might  suffer  material  detriment  from 
any  collision  with  the  people." 

"  Pshaw,  Harry,  my  dear  boy,  '  still  harping  on  my  daughter/ 
still  at  thy  old  'humors;'"  replied  the  unthinking  fellow 
"  It  won't  do,  I  tell  you.  Our  objects  are  the  same,  though  the 
range  of  character  may  be  somewhat  different ;  as  I  confess 
myself  to  be  somewhat  erratic,  and  a  jump  from  Romeo  to 
Dogberry  has  been  a  folly  of  mine  more  than  once  already. 
When  you  see  me  resolved,  head  and  heels,  to  go  on  with  you 
'  to  the  last  gasp  with  truth  and  loyalty,'  why,  what  the  devil's 
the  use  of  shamming  any  longer?  You  can't  get  rid  of  me,  do 
what  you  will,  unless,  as  I  told  you  before,  you  put  a  bullet 
through  rny  brains,  and  that  were  only  to  scatter  them  worse 
than  ever,  without  doing  me  or  yourself  any  great  service.  Be 
generous,  man  —  do  as  I  have  done,  make  a  clean  bosom  of  it, 
confess  —  and  we  will  down  upon  little  Tilton  with  a  concerted 
plan  of  operations  which  shall  make  the  rascal  stare.  We  can  do 
as  we  please  then  with  all  the  arrangements — get  our  own 
terms,  declare  our  own  casts,  and  — 

"  'All  furnish'd,  all  in  arms, 

All  plumed  like  estridges,  that  with  the  wind 
Bated  like  eagles  having  lately  bathed: 
Glittering  in  golden  coats '" 

By  the  way,  Harry,  you  have  not  seen  my  dress  in  Hal.  Yon 
t^ial'l  see  it  to-morrow — you  shall  see  me  in  it  'rise  from  the 


CLOSING   UP   PEEPERS. 

ground  like  feathered  Mercury' — made  a  d — d  ugly  hole  in 
dad's  crop  to  pay  for  that  dress,  I  tell  you.  What  would  the 
old  fellow  say,  were  I  to  count  up  to  him  the  cost  of  stars  and 
spangles,  beaver,  crosses,  images  and  plumes,  in  cotton  bags. 
Ha  '  ha !  I  think  I  see  him  now,  his  game  leg  in  air,  his  sound 
one  thundering  on  the  floor,  his  eyes  shooting  out  from  their 
spheres,  red  and  fiery,  and  his  voice  hoarse  and  choking,  still 
resolute  to  roar  the  anathema,  which  sticks  in  his  throat,  at  last, 
more  rigidly  than  a  better  sentiment  in  that  of  Macbeth.  Oh, 
Harry,  what  a  scene  ! — But  hold  ! — Here's  our  enemy." 

A  bright  rnoon  helped  the  progress  of  the  several  parties. 
Yarbers  and  young  Mabry  stood  in  a  small  open  space  among  a 
clump  of  pines  apparently  in  earnest  conversation,  as  the  two 
approached  them.  Mabry  held  his  horse  by  the  bridle,  one 
foot  already  in  the  stirrup,  as  if — the  important  matters  of 
which  they  spoke  being  fairly  discussed — he  lingered  only  for 
a  parting  word.  That  they  were  seriously  engaged  was  likely 
enough,  since  they  neither  saw  nor  heard  the  approach  of  the 
two  strangers,  till  they  had  already  passed  into  the  same  open 
ing  with  themselves.  It  was  then  that  Mabry,  as  if  apprehend 
ing  the  object  of  his  enemy,  or,  as  was  more  probable,  desiring 
an  opportunity  to  renew  a  conflict  in  which  his  success  had  been 
so  unequivocal  already,  withdrew  his  foot  from  the  stirrup,  and 
once  more  threw  the  bridle  from  his  steed's  neck  over  the 
stunted  sapling  which  had  before  confined  him.  This  done,  he 
kept  his  place  where  the  eyes  of  the  two  had  first  encountered 
him,  while  Yarbers,  with  some  agitation  of  manner,  advanced 
and  addressed  them 

"  A  fine  evening,  gentlemen  —  fine  for  a  walk,  and — "" 

"Ay,  or  for  any  other  purpose  which  needs  a  cool  tempera 
ture  and  a  clear  sky,"  was  the  ready  answer  of  Horsey,  who, 
at  the  same  time  passing  by  Yarbers,  continued  his  speech  to 
his  companion — "  I  am  glad  this  clear  moon  has  helped  me  to 
find  you,  young  un,  since  I  should  not  have  slept  so  comfortably 
with  the  thought  of  being  your  involuntary  debtor.  I  bear, 
sir,  some  tokens  of  your  favor  on  my  cheek.  I  am  not  willing 
that  you  should  go  unrequited.  Do  you  understand  me,  sir  ?" 

This  apostrophe  did  not  seem  at  all  ungrateful  to  the  rustic, 
who  had  rather  wished  than  expected  so  early  an  opportunity 


122  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

to  renew  his  punishment  of  an  ofi'mco  which  he  had  shown 
himself  so  unwilling  to  tolerate,  and  which  had  been  repeated 
so  audaciously  before  his  eyes.  That  he  could  punish  th-i 
impudent  stranger,  he  had  no  sort  of  doubt.  His  own  physical 
prowess  had  been  generally  acknowledged  among  the  young 
Spartans  of  the  neighborhood,  and  the  sudden  and  easy  over 
throw  of  Horsey  by  his  single  blow,  but  a  little  while  before, 
and  the  good-natured  forbearance  of  the  latter  immediately 
after,  had  given  him  but  a  mean  idea  as  well  of  the  courage  as 
of  the  strength  of  his  opponent.  That  Horsey  should,  with 
open  eyes  and  cool  deliberation,  come  once  more  within  his 
clutches,  was  no  less  satisfactory  than  surprising ;  and  boldly 
confronting  him,  he  answered  his  salutation  in  language  that 
left  little  possibility  of  a  reconciliation  being  effected  by  either 
of  the  bystanders,  both  of  whom  attempted  a  consummation 
which  was  so  proper  and  desirable.  Yarbers  strove  with 
Mabry,  and  Vernon,  though  to  a  far  more  moderate  extent, 
with  Horsey.  He  knew  that  the  popular  sentiment  made  the 
jourse  of  Horsey  one  of  retributive  justice  only,  and  his  first 
)ve.rtures  being  unsuccessful,  he  forebore  renewing  them,  and 
patiently  waited  in  silence  the  progress  of  events.  Yarbers, 
ilso,  after  a  while,  gave  up,  as  useless,  the  effort  to  mollify  the 
•hampion  on  his  side  of  the  hill,  and  the  parties  at  length  stood 
fitted,  both  ready  and  anxious,  to  "  feed  fat  the  ancient  grudge." 
f  Nothing  surely  could  have  been  more  curious  than  the  dif 
ference  of  mood  which  the  two  exhibited  while  in  this  position. 
IVfabry,  at  first,  like  a  young  bull  simply  bent  on  mischief,  ap 
proached  his  enemy  with  slow  steps,  his  rising  temper  indicated 
only  by  occasional  sudden  jerks  of  the  head,  and  a  slight  fitful 
stamping  of  the  feet  A  muttered  growl  escaped  his  lips  at 
intervals,  and  his  fists  were  clenched  and  opened  alternately  — 
his  long  fingers,  the  nails  of  which  were  quite  as  threatening  as 
any  other  premonitory  symptom  of  danger,  being  sometimes 
thrust  upward,  as  if,  of  themselves,  anxious  to  rend  from  their 
sockets  the  eyes  of  all  who  beheld  them  with  hostility. 

Vemon  regarded  this  threat  as  so  unequivocal  that  he  intei 
posed,  and  insisted  upon  "  an  up-and-down,  straight  fight,  fist 
head,  and  feet,  but  no  gouging  —  no  rough-and-tumble  ;"  bat  thiti 
was  to  deprive  the  enemy  of  one  n.f  Ms  most  favorite  weapon*. 


CLOSING    UP    PEEPERS.  123 

and  that  which  he  meditated  to  use  with  more  malignant  effi 
ciency  in  this  strife  than  any  other. 

t  "I  fight  as  I  please  —  according  to  my  own  fashion  —  and  let 
him  do  the  same,"  replied  Mabry.  "  If  he's  afraid  of  my  fingers 
let  him  say  so,  and  I'll  let  him  off." 

"Afraid  of  your  fingers,  you  catamount!"  exclaimed  the 
actor  with  contemptuous  scorn,  and  a  coolness  that  was  really 
edifying ;  "  use  tooth  and  nail,  my  good  fellow,  if  you  please, 
or  if  you  can.  Don't  trouble  yourself,  Harry,  about  me — 'egad 
I'll  swallow  him,  claws  and  all,  though  his  scales  were  as  rough 
and  large  as  those  of  the  biggest  alligator  that  ever  picked  his 
teeth  with  a  cypress  on  the  banks  of  Pontchartrain." 

"  You  will,  will  you  1"  cried  the  other,  the  foam  gathering 
about  his  mouth,  his  teeth  gnashing  with  rage,  and  his  whole 
body  in  motion,  like  that  of  the  bull,  whose  gradually  accumu 
lating  fury,  moves  it  from  petty  mischief  to  a  destroying  mad- 
p  ness.     He  bounded  from  the  earth,  ran  round  his  enemy,  slap 
ping  his  thighs  with  his  hands  the  while,  in  the  most  savage 
fashion,  and  at  length,  with  a  whooping  shriek,  imitated  from 
that  of  some  wild  beast  of  the  forest,  he  threw  a  summerset, 
his  feet  aiming  to  strike  the  breast  of  the  actor,  who  followed 
all  his  movements  with  eyes  and  hands  in  constant  readiness. 
»,      The    preliminaries    of   Mabry  had  warned   Horsey   of   the 
mode  in  which  his  attack  was  likely  to  begin,  and  for  which  he 
prepared  himself.     It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  Horsey  was 
Yorkshire  too  —  that  is  to  say,  he  was  quite  as  well  accom 
plished  in  the  arts  of  the  forest-fighter  as  was  his  opponent  — 
with  the  additional  advantage  of  knowing  other  arts  which 
were  even  of  more  avail  in  such  warfare  as  the  present.     The 
heels  of  Mabray  were  no  sooner  in  the  air,  than  the  actor, 
sinking  on  his  knees,  removed  the   mark    which  they  were 
meant  to  strike;  but,  rising  the  moment  after,  he  sprang  to  the 
spot  where  the  other  had  alighted,  and  dedt  him  a  blow  between 
the  eyes  which  gave  him  an  apparition  of  the  four  moons  of 
Jupiter,  with  a  very  fine  display  of  cross-fires  playing  in  the 
centre,  such  as  never  yet  blessed  the  vision  of  Herschel  01 
Dick.     This  tumbled   him  over  for  an  instant;    but,  nothing 
daunted,  though  confounded,  he  renewed  his  attack  in  a  different 
form,  and  with  a  caution  which  had  been  more  a 


124  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

exercised  in  the  first  instance.  The  actor,  no  ways  elated,  but 
seeming  to  regard  the  proceeding,  so  far,  as  one  which  had 
been  the  result  of  the  plainest  calculation,  calmly  approached 
Lis  enemy,  speaking  as  he  did  so,  apologetically,  as  it  were,  to 
the  two  spectators  for  continuing  the  fight. 

"  Blow  for  blow  is  quite  enough  in  all  ordinary  cases ;  but 
this  fellow  tumbled  me  unawares,  and  in  the  presence  of  the 
women,  and,  by  the  valor  of  Orlando,  he  shall  have  anothei 
fall,  ere  oar  accounts  balance.  This  I  have  sworn  to,  Harry  — 
as  firm  an  oath  as  if  I  had  pressed  my  lips  on  the  pocket  Shak- 
spere.  I  will  give  the  lad  a  lesson  which  he  will  remembci 
whenever  he  has  occasion  to  take  his  measure  by  that  of  mothei 
•varth.  Are  you  ready,  young  un  ?" 

Once  more  they  stood  before  each  other — the  language  of 
superiority  which  Horsey  employed,  goading  his  rustic  oppo 
nent  to  a  degree  of  ferocity  which  made  him  forget  his  hurts ; 
and  conscious  of  his  superior  strength,  he  rushed  in  upon  the 
actor,  employing  no  art,  and  only  seeking  to  come  to  the  close 
hug  —  the  grapple  of  sinews  —  in  which  lay  his  chief  and  only 
hope.  But  Horsey  had  no  disposition  to  gratify  him  in  this  de 
sire.  He  well  knew  the  danger  to  him  of  such  an  issue.  Once 
closed  in  with,  his  "  cunning  of  fence"  would  avail  him  nothing  ; 
and  once  down,  his  eyes  had  no  farther  security  against  the  long 
claws  which  had  already  been  stretched  out  to  pluck  them  forth. 

It  was  fortunate,  perhaps,  that  the  rage  of  his  enemy  deprived 
him  of  his  deliberation.  His  blind  attack  was  not  dangerous. 
His  approach  was  met  with  cool,  keen-eyed  determination  —  a 
characteristic  in  which  Vernou  never  could  have  conceived  his 
companion  to  have  been  so  strong.  Talking  all  the  while,  and 
quoting  as  much  Shakspere  as  ever,  he  parried  the  blows  of 
the  rustic,  for  a  while  utterly  forbearing  to  put  in  any  of  his  own. 
At  length,  as  if  he  had  yielded  a  sufficiently  fair  time  to  his 
opponent's  play,  he  exclaimed  — 

"  Now,  sir,  is  my  turn.  I  will  close  up  your  eyes,  without 
[jutting  you  to  sleep ;  though,  let  me  tell  you,  it  would  be  very 
Aasy  for  me  to  do  that  too." 

I  don't  fear  you,  d — n  you — I'll  down  you  yet!"  roared 
the  other  in  a  rage  of  fury  that,  inci  eased  with  every  failure  of 
h3s  own  efforts. 


CLOSING   UP   PEEPERS.  125 

"  Your  right  eye  first !"  said  the  actor,  answering  this  ebulli 
tion  at  the  same  moment  with  word  and  blow ;  "  and  now  your 
left!" 

Both  blows  took  effect,  in  spite  of  the  desperate  efforts  of  the 
victim  to  defend  himself,  and  he  lay  at  the  feet  of  his  foe  al 
most  without  motion.  Yarbers  assisted  him  to  rise,  but  he  wag 
in  no  condition  for  farther  conflict.  Blinded  and  staggering  he 
stood,  and  still  his  lips  breathed  nothing  but  defiance. 

"  The  fellow's  game,"  said  Horsey.  The  voice,  the  words, 
roused  the  instinct  of  hate  anew  in  the  vanquished  man,  and 
he  struggled  in  the  arms  of  Yarbers  to  rush  once  more  upon  his 
foe.  Restrained  in  this,  his  hand  suddenly  plucked  a  spring- 
knife  from  his  bosom,  the  blade  of  which  was  instantly  shot 
out,  and,  but  for  the  timely  grasp  of  Vernon,  he  had  sheathed 
it  in  the  body  of  the  man  who  held  him.  The  weapon,  spite 
of  his  struggles,  was  taken  from  him,  and  a  stupor  which  fol 
lowed,  Hcemed  to  possess  his  mind  and  body  with  equal  apathy. 
He  murmured  incoherently  while  it  lasted,  his  words  consisting 
mostly  of  bitter  denunciation,  which,  to  the  surprise  of  the  two 
travellers,  seemed  chiefly  to  fall  upon  Yarbers. 

"  You're  a  villain,  John  Yarbers  —  you  would  shut  my  mouth 
up  —  wouldn't  have  me  tell  what  I  know  —  and  have  made  your 
villains  do  this.  But  I  will  speak  —  I'll  write  it  down  —  I'll 
declare  your  roguery  to  all  Madison.  They  shall  know  who — " 

"  He  raves !"  exclaimed  Y'arbers  in  no  little  agitation ;  "  you've 
beat  all  the  sense  out  of  him,  Mr.  Horsey,  and  he  don't  know 
what  he  says.  But  don't  you  mind  him.  Go  home  at  once. 
Bess  is  waiting  supper  for  you  by  this  time,  and  there's  no  need 
that  you  should  wait.  I'll  tend  to  him,  and  see  him  carried 
home." 

"  I'm  truly  sorry  I  had  to  thump  him  so  hard,  Harry,"  said 
Horsey  apologetically  to  his  companion,  as  they  took  their  way 
back  to  the  cottage,  "  but  I  had  sworn  it,  you  know,  and  couldn't 
so  well  get  off.  Besides,  it's  absolutely  necessary  now  and 
then  to  make  an  example  of  these  fellows.  They  rely  on  supe 
rior  strength  to  be  insolent,  and  nothing  would  have  pleased  this 
*.Lap  so  much  as  carrying  home  my  eyes  as  a  trophy.  Year* 
rionce  he  would  have  a  history  for  Dick  Jenkins,  and  Jim  Br-lv 
and  Peter  Pinchback  nnd  a  dozer  others,  of  the  dan.jv 


126  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

fr-jm  below  that  he  met  at  Yarbers'  house,  and  '  how  hecotch'd  ' " 
v  imitating  the  patois  of  the  country,  "'  how  he  cotch'd  the  chap 
mighty  soptious  with  the  gal,  and  how  he  gin  him  the  cross- 
buttock,  and,  before  he  could  say  Jack  Robinson,  had  a  finger 
in  his  shock  and  a  thumb  in  his  eye,  and  sent  him  off  with  the 
blind-staggers  and  two  holes  in  his  forehead  that  could  make 
no  use  of  specks,  though  he  was  mighty  glad  to  wear  them ;' 
and  then,  to  prove  the  truth  of  what  he  said,  he  would  bring 
forth  a  bottle  of  eyes  preserved  in  whiskey  —  my  eyes  with 
fifty  others,  the  Tom's,  Dick's,  and  Harry's,  the  Ned's,  Ben's, 
and  Peter's,  the  Billy's  and  Timothy's,  that  have  been  the 
heroes  of  the  barbecue  and  gin-shop  from  time  immemorial  —  all 
in  attestation  of  the  superior  excellence  of  the  claws  that  plucked 
them  out.  The  eyes  of  Tom  Horsey  preserved  in  whiskey ! 
Whew  !  The  thought  makes  me  shudder  again.  Eyes,  Harry 
Vernon,  are  absolutely  necessary  to  an  actor." 

"  Keep  yours  about  you  as  a  traveller.  You  have  made 
an  enemy  of  this  youth,  who  will  not  forget  you.  We  travel 
in  a  wild  region,  and  the  securities  are  few  for  life  and  limb. 
A  man  may  be  tumbled  in  these  swamps,  by  the  shot  of  the  un 
seen  assassin,  and  the  wildcat  alone  will  find  out  his  hiding- 
place.  You,  who  have  no  sort  of  reason  to  be  in  this  neighbor 
hood,  can  not  too  soon  take  yourself  out  of  it.;> 

"To-morrow,  Harry  —  you  would  not  have  me  set  off  to 
night  V 

"  No — to-morrow  will  be  time  enough.  Return  to  Raymond, 
set  yourself  in  safety  and  your  father's  mind  at  rest." 

" '  Ha  !  ha,  boy  !  Say'st  thou  so  ?  Art  thou  there,  true 
penny?'  Now  hear  me,  Harry  Percy,  I  look  on  it  that  you 
fear  me  —  I  hold  thee  jealous  of  my  attributes,  my  attitudes, 
rny  carriage,  my  certain  something,  which,  being  peculiar  to 
the  individual  man,  is  vulgarly  called  genius.  I  will  outshine 
f.iice  before  Jim  Tilton  —  outdo  thee  —  take  the  rag  off  the  bush 
in  Benton ;  and  leave  thee  '  the  mere  lees  to  brag  of.'  You 
give  me  counsel  but  no  confidence  —  w1  y  should  I  keep  terms 
with  thee  1  Urge  me  again  upon  this  matter,  and  I  declare 
against  thee.  Thou  shalt  know  me  as  a  rival  rather  than  an 
aBy ;  and  I  will  foil  all  thy  best  points  with  my  own.  Look 
r,o  it,  Harry  —  the  gall  rises  within  me." 


CIJSINO    UP   PEEPERS.  127 

Vernon  regarded  the  speaker  with  mixed  feelings  of  pity  and 
vexation.  But  the  monomania  was  too  strong  to  b«  overcome 
by  argument,  or  resisted  by  anythnu.  short  of  violence  —  a 
measure  to  whi"*»,  as  there  was  no  prer««nt  necessity  to*  rid  him 
self  of  his  companion,  there  was  no  occasion  to  resort.  Sup 
pressing,  therefore,  some  stern  expressions  which  had  risen  to 
his  lips,  he  suffered  the  other  to  chuckle  in  the  prospect  of  his 
theatrical  superiority,  inly  consoling  himself  with  the  idea  that 
before  the  close  of  another  day  he  should  be  rid  of  his  thought 
less  but  well-intentioned  tormentor;  and  he,  disabused  of  the 
unhappy  error  which  had  probably,  more  than  anything  beside, 
seduced  him  from  the  home  to  which  he  had  only  just  returned. 

When  they  reached  the  house,  the  actor  resumed  his  random 
and  rhapsodical  chit-chat  with  all  around  him,  as  if  nothing  had 
happened  either  within  or  without  to  discompose  him  for  an  in 
stant.  The  hostess  he  reminded  of  old  times,  and  of  a  thousand 
practical  jokes  which  he-  had  played,  of  which  she  herself  had 
been  more  than  once  the  victim.  With  a  fresh  memory  he 
accompanied  the  vital  requisites  of  narration,  lively  comment, 
and  felicitous  gesture ;  and,  speaking  with  all  the  frank  exube 
rance  of  boyhood,  which  his  playhouse  habits  had  been  rather 
calculated  fo  increase  than  diminish,  he  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  the  blushing  Mary  watching  and  listening  with  an  atten- 
tiveness  scarcely  less  sweet  and  anxious  than  that  of  "  the  gen 
tle  lady  wedded  to  the  Moor"  —  her  white  neck  stretched  for 
ward —  her  head  bent  toward  him  —  her  lips  slightly  parted, 
and  in  her  eyes  that  glistening  eagerness  of  gaze  which  betrays 
mingled  pleasure  and  curiosity.  It  is  more  than  probable  that 
the  likeness  between  his  own  situation  and  that  of  Othello, 
forced  itself  upon  him  when  he  made  this  discovery. —  for  a 
moment  after,  without  any  preface,  he  began,  half  aloud,  to 
oiuttcr  the  fine  description  of  the  scene — 

"  Th^se  things  to  hear 
"Would  Desdemona  seriously  incline,"  Ac. 

The  summons  to  supper,  twice,  thrice  repeated  by  the  hostess 
herself,  scarcely  succeeded  in  diverting  him  from  this  theme  and 
stopping  him  in  the  full  swell  and  torrent  of  his  declamation. 
But  the  old  ladv  was  already  handling  the  coffee-pot,  and  ther« 


128  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

was  no  time  to  finish  the  quotation;  yet,  as  if  to  revenue  him 
self  for  the  interruption,  he  seized  the  hands  of  the  damsel,  who 
still  sat,  almost  as  inattentive  to  ordinary  matters  as  himself 
and  geotly  pressing  them  the  while,  he  conducted  her  to  thf 
^acant  seat  heside  his  own  at  the  table. 


CHAPTER    XI. 
•\ 

TREACHERY    IN    CAMP  —  POLITICIANS    AMONG    THF    OUTLAWS. 


Vol.  You  ttand  here,  my  lord,  unseen,  and  hear  all  ; 
Do  I  deal  now  like  a  right  friend  with  you  I 

An*.  Like  a  most  faithful.  —  SECOXD  MUD'S  TB*GEDT. 

VER?:ON  retired  early  to  his  couch,  which  stood,  with  that  of 
Horsey,  in  an  adjoining  shed-room.  He  was  pleased  to  find 
clean  white  homespun  sheets  allotted  him  ;  and,  looking  around 
the  apartment,  involuntarily  congratulated  himself  that  so  tidy 
a  damsel  as  Mary  Clayton  made  up  the  beds  and  aired  the 
Chambers.  Clear  water  in  a  clean  white  gohlet  stood  on  a 
chair  —  for  there  was  no  other  washstand  —  on  the  back  of 
which  hung  a  couple  of  towels  of  coarse  homespun,  bleached  bj 
long  use  and  good  washing  to  a  whiteness  like  that  of  the  sheets 
These  little  matters  attested  some  larger  degree  of  civilization 
than  the  externals  of  the  mansion  had  prepared  him  to  expect 
and  were  the  fruits,  most  probably,  of  better  days  and  associa 
tions,  which  Mrs.  Yarbers  had  brought  with  her  from  the  lower 
country.  Certainly  they  were  only  becoming  features  in  one 
who  had  traded  so  long  in  cakes  and  beer  to  the  common  sati* 
faction.  Yarbers  himself  appeared  to  be  a  slovenly,  coans* 
creature,  to  whom  the  neatness  of  a  household  was  not  likely  to 
be  a  subject  of  much  consideration. 

It  was  fully  an  hour  after  Yernon  had  retired  befv 
followed  his  example.     He  sat  up  talking  with  the  bostcss,  to 
whom  his  sudden  reappearance  after  so  long  an  interval  had 
brought  back  as  many  associations  as  her  ancient  features  had 
Awakened  in  him  ;  and  the  ball  of  conversation,  so  busied  were 


TKSACHKKY    IN    CAMP.  L29 

they  mutually  in  asking  and  answering  juestioiib,  v,as  seldom 
suffered  to  fall  for  more  than  a  single  moment  in  all  tliat  space 
of  time. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  say  whether  the  old  lady  took  any 
special  pleasure  in  the  chat  of  the  individual  in  question.  It 
is  more  than  probable  she  would  have  found  the  same  in  th.-1 
of  any  other  young  person  who  had  presented  himself  at  th». 
close  of  day,  and  bfffgfd  a  shelter  for  the  night.  Age  likes  to 
enliven  itself  with  the  fires  of  youth,  as  the  venerable  monarch 
of  Israel  became  conscious  of  a  living  warmth  Irorn  the  embraces 
of  the  young  maidens  who  were  placed  beside  hii/j  for  that  pur 
pose.  It  seems  like  the  pouring  of  new  mountain-streams  into 
exhausted  channels,  and  impelling  into  consciousness  and  mo 
tion  the  choked  and  stagnant  fountains  of  life.  The  heart  grows 
young  in  the  Contemplation  of  youth,  and  a  momentary  forget.- 
fulness  of  its  own  decay  is  the  consequence  <>f  that  revivifica 
tion  of  memory  which  confounds  the  past  with  the  present-;  or 
rather  sends  the  mind  back  from  the  bleak  eminence  of 
which  it  has  reached,  and  where  it  stands  stiff  and  fro/c 
the  green  and  flowery  valleys  below,  from  which  it  has  risen  at 
first,  but  to  which,  save  by  the  aid  of  memory,  it  can  never, 
never  more  return. 

There  may  have  been,  indeed,  some  little  occult  policy  ir 
the  gracious   demeanor  of  Mrs.   Yarbers  to   the  dashing  and 
good-natured  actor.     She  was  not  without  that  bocbJ  instinct 
which  Is  called  cunning,  and  did  not  fail  to  recollect  that  Ton. 
Horsey's   father  was  one    of   the    stanchest    proprietors    in   ;«'! 
Hinrles  county.     It  had  not  escaped   her  eye  that  her  old  en 
tomer  for  cakes  and  beer  was  really  very  much  taken  with  the 
Appearance  of  her  lovely  daughter,  and  here,  to  use  the  pbri 
of  the  sea-logician,  was  a  "  concatenation  accordingly.'' 

Perhaps,  were  it  0111    cue  to  prosecute  this  inquiry  ;,till  far 
ther  at  this  moment,  it  we -4,  iiot  difficult  to  find  st: 
for  the  suspicion  which   is  here  presented   to  the  mind  of  the 
reader  ;  but  this  might  be  anticipating  other  passages.     Kn«,u^h 
to  say,  that  Mrs.    Yarbers  was  not.   pleased   with   her   husband, 
with  his  relations,  and  her  own  pos.tion  ;   arid,  as  a  mother,  re- 
garded  the  existing  influences  of  tb/  latter  as  highly  detrit, 
tal  to  the  fortunes  of  a  child  w'i.'^i  she  loved,  naturally  and 


130  BOKDEB   BEAGLES. 

necessarily,  as  a  mother  should ;  but  to  whom  she  gave  addi 
tional  regard,  as,  contemplating  her  through  the  medium  of  her 
pride,  she  saw  in  her  beauty  a  possession  which  lifted  her 
heart,  and  warmed  her  vani«ty,  and  made  it  a  sorrow  in  her 
mind  when  she  reflected  that  such  charms  were  destined  to 
ripen  in  the  shade,  and,  like  the  fruits  of  the  untrodden  forest, 
to  ripen  unprofitably,  without  eye  to  admire  or  lip  to  taste. 

This  was  a  subject  upon  which  her  mind  was  apt  to  brood, 
and  it  need  not  occasion  our  wonder  to  be  told  that  the  instincts 
of  one  brooding  thus,  would  not  be  unlikely  to  result  in  practices 
not  very  dissimilar  to  those  of  the  professedly  managing  mother 
in  communities  of  more  artifice  and  fashion.  From  the  first 
moment  when  Horsey  declared  himself  and  renewed  his  old 
acquaintance  with  her,  the  fancy  had  floated  in  her  mind  that 
his  coming  was  a  special  providence;  and  this  fancy,  fixed 
firmly  at  last,  she  resolved  to  lend  all  her  powers  to  the  con 
summation  of  the  thing  sh^  wished. 

With  this  resolution,  Mary  was  suffered  to  sit  up  long  beyond 
the  usual  hour,  listening  to  a  conversation  which,  enlivened  by 
playful  remarks  and  pleasant  anecdotes  on  the  part  of  the  actor, 
was  very  agreeable  to  a  young  creature  who  had  as  yet  seen 
nothing  of  the  world ;  and  the  mother  even  assumed  the  per 
formance  of  many  of  those  tasks  which,  in  ordinary  periods, 
were  commonly  allotted  to  her  daughter,  that  there  might  be  no 
obstacle  offered  to  the  formation  of  an  intimacy  between  the 
two  which  promised  to  realize  her  desires,  and  which,  so  far, 
had  advanced  with  tolerable  rapidity.  The  absence  of  her  hus 
band  was  favorable  to  her  plans ;  and,  it  may  be,  that  some  im 
pulse  was  derived  for  their  provocation,  from  the  fact  that  these 
were  calculated  to  interfere  with  his.  He,  too,  had  purposes  in 
view  for  the  damsel  —  though  not  his  daughter — which  were 
something  less  than  agreeable  to  the  mother ;  and  the  open 
avowal  of  his  preference  in  behalf  of  young  Mabry  had  been 
the  signal  for  her  declared  hostility  to  his  pretensions.  Thus 
matters  stood  at  the  period  of  which  we  write. 

When  Horsey  retired  from  the  hall,  which  he  had  not  thought 
to  do  until  Mary  disappeared,  and  certain  admonitory  yawns 
from  the  mother  denoted  that  condition  of  declining  conscious 
ness  which  could  not  long  do  full  justice  to  his  good  stories  and 


1KEACHERY    IN    CAMP.  181 

choice  quotations,  Yarbers  had  not  returned.  But  Horsey  had 
been  but  few  minutes  in  his  chambers  before  the  outer  door  of 
the  dwelling  was  heard  to  unclose  and  his  heavy  tread  sounded 
along  the  floor.  Horsey  had  challenged  his  companion's  atten 
tion  the  moment  he  entered  the  room,  but  the  latter  had  discour 
aged  him,  by  declaring  a  very  carnal  desire  for  sleep  —  an  ex 
cuse  which,  at  that  moment,  the  buoyant  actor  was  unwilling  to 
regard  as  worthy  a  single  consideration  ;  and  he  rattled  on  with 
out  intermission  for  a  while,  until,  undressed  and  buried  in  the 
sheets,  the  animal  obtained  the  ascendency,  and  his  tongue, 
taking  advantage  of  the  circumstance,  assigned  the  task  of  de 
claring  his  whereabouts  to  that  distinguished  member  his  nose, 
the  extraordinary  industry  and  capacity  of  which  was  soon  a 
matter  of  general  notoriety. 

To  this  moment  Vernon  had  not  closed  his  eyes.  His  mind 
was  just  in  that  condition  of  quickening  cogitation  when,  yet 
unpossessed  of  its  definite  purpose,  it  compares  plans,  analyzes 
its  resources  and  dependencies,  and  from  pregnant  and  critical 
doubts  conceives  and  gathers  hopes  and  resolutions. 

There  was  mufth  in  the  position  of  Vernon  to  keep  him 
watchful,  and  the  smallest  unusual  event  was  calculated  to 
make  his  blood  bound,  and  his  fancy  spring  into  activity. 
Thus,  .after  Yarbers'  return  to  the  cottage,  and  while  he  medi 
tated  a  thousand  different  courses  of  conduct  for  the  better 
prosecution  of  his  leading  object,  his  ear,  quickened  by 
thought,  under  the  influence  of  an  imagination  warmed  and 
strengthened  by  the  drowsy  midnight  horn  that  sounded 
throughout  the  world  of  silence,  caught  the  sudden  baying  of 
a  beagle,  and  a  crowd  of  suspicious  fancies  thronged  upon  him 

Once,  twice,  thrice,  the  loud,  deep,  prolonged  note  sounded 
faintly  through  the  apartment,  and  then  the  footstep  of  Yarbers 
was  again  heard,  slowly  crossing  the  floor  from  the  rear  to  the 
entrance  of  the  house.  The  lifting  of  the  latch  followed,  the 
door  was  opened,  and  again  closed.  Silence  succeeded  for  a 
moment ;  then  arose  a  stunning  bay  from  the  hound,  almost  at 
the  threshhold  of  the  dwelling,  a  prolonged  note  like  that 
which  had  awakened  the  attention  of  Vernon  a  few  moment* 
before. 

This  was  singular  enough.     There  were  evidently  no  dogs 


132  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

r>f  any  kind  about  the  premises  at  the  first  coming  of  the  trav 
ellers,  and  though  they  might  afterward  have  come  home  with 
the  master  of  the  house,  yet  it  was  highly  improbable  that  such 
had  been  the  case,  else  wherefore  had  they  heard  nothing  of 
them  when  they  sallied  forth  to  the  meeting  already  described 
of  Horsey  with  Mabry  ?  Besides,  it  was  scarcely  possible  thai 
a  farmer  on  the  outskirts  of  the  then  Mississippi  border,  should 
so  carefully  exclude  his  dogs  from  the  same  apartment  wit 
himself. 

Vernon  was  in  the  rnood  to  conjecture  a  thousand  strong 
matters,  and  to  convert  into  causes  of  suspicion  many  things 
that  might  be  innocent  enough.  To  one  in  his  situation,  and 
with  his  objects,  this  was  sufficiently  proper;  and  the  occasion 
for  his  excitation  in  the  present  instance  was  well  founded. 
The  beagles  that  were  in  the  wood  then,  run  not  on  four  legs  ; 
and  the  last  sound  that  reached  his  ears,  issuing  from  the  lungs 
of  Yarbers,  was  an  annunciation  to  a  companion  that  the  coast 
was  clear.  Under  the  shade  of  a  spreading  oak,  a  hundred 
yards  from  his  dwelling,  he  was  joined  by  no  less  a  person  than 
our  old  acquaintance,  Saxon.  « 

"  You  have  lodgers,  Jack  ?"  demanded  the  outlaw  m  the  first 
moment  of  their  meeting. 

"Two  chaps  from  below — one  a  quiet,  sober,  silent  sort  of 
person;  the  other  a  fellow  all  tongue.  His  name's  Horsey  — 
ne's — " 

"  No  matter.  I  know  them  both.  As  for  Horsey,  it's  a  mis 
fortune  he's  along.  He  may  be  in  the  way.  Hawkins  put 
some  nonsense  in  that  fellow's  head,  and  I  fear  has  only  thrust 
him  in  our  path.  The  other  must  be  seen  co." 

'•  Ha  !     What  is  he  ?" 

"  A  spy,  I  reckon.  Such  is  our  suspicion  He's  in  with  the 
governor,  and  they  have  had  some  talk  about  an  ugly  business 
which  concerns  us.  The  only  good  feature  in  the  thing  is,  that 
they  do  not  know  exactly  which  way  to  turn  themselves,  or  who 
to  trust.  What  they  know  leads  them  to  apprehend  a  great 
deal  of  which  they  know  nothing,  and  much  more  than  is  the 
truth.  What  this  youth  knows  is  our  question.  We  must 
touch  his  wallet.  You  must  manage  that  to-night " 

"Has  he  money,  think  you  ?" 


POLITICIANS    AMUN(J    TIIiT    OUTLAWS. 

'Nay,  that  is  no  object  'now  ;  besides,  I  doubt  he  has  little, 
He  is  a  poor  young  lawyer  that  the  governor  has  tempted  with 
promises  of  a  great  reward  for  every  beagle  that  he  can  collar. 
Our  object" is  to  get  hold  of  his  papers,  and  see  what  names  he 
has  down.  We  know  that  certain  papers  of  Mat  Webber  fell 
into  their  hands  at  that  ugly  business  on  the  Black  Warrior ; 
and  the  confessions  of  that  traitor,  Eberly,  if  he  made  any, 
might  give  them  clues  enough  to  our  most  secret  operations. 
That  this  fellow,  Vernon,  is  employed  by  the  state,  I  have  no 
sort  of  doubt;  but  there's  no  telling  to  what  extent  —  what  are 
the  powers  given  him,  or  what  is  the  object  he  aims  at.  These 
we  must  learn.  His  papers  we  must  handle,  and  you  must  con 
trive  it  if  you  can  to-night,  or  the  work  will  be  more  trouble 
some  to-morrow.  Have  you  found  out  what  course  he  takes  ?" 

"  To  Beatie's  Bluff,  if  he  himself  is  to  be  believed ;  but  the 
other  lark  told  Betsy  a  different  story,  and  said  that  they  were 
both  for  the  lower  ford,  on  the  route  to  Benton." 

"And  how's  Bess  now?  —  has  she  got  over  her  humors? 
Does  she  still  continue  to  suspect  you  ?" 

"  Worse  than  ever  ;  and  Mabry  is  also  very  troublesome." 

"But  have  you  not  given  him  your  daughter  —  will  not  that 
stop  his  mouth  ?" 

"  It  would,  I  make  no  doubt,  could  my  giving  be  his  having. 
But  the  old  woman's  stubborn  as  a  mule,  the  girl  herself  dislikes 
him,  and  this  evening  there  was  a  strange  blow-out,  that  has 
made  the  chap  furious  as  a  wild  beast — all  tongue  and  wrath 
and  no  reason." 

"  Ha  !  what  was  the  matter  ?" 

"  Well,  you  see,  it  so  happened,  that  the  old  woman  know'd 
this  young  man,  Horsey,  when  he  was  only  a  little  bit  of  a  boy, 
somewhere  down  on  Pearl  river.  Well,  when  they  struck  up 
the  acquaintance  between  'em,  what  should  the  fellow  do,  but, 
to  make  it  fast,  he  ups  and  goes  for  kissing  Mary,  and  for  any 
thing  I  know,  the  old  woman  too.  Just  at  the  time  when  he 
was  about  it,  and  pushing  Mary,  who  was  frightened  enough, 
1  warrant,  all  round  the  room,  we  came  in,  Mabry  and  myself; 
and  before  we  could  put  in  or  say  a  word,  Mabry  jumps  for 
ward,  and  clips  the  stranger  side  of  his  head  and  tumbles  him 
aver  like  a  log.  There  was  a  great  to-dc  after  that.  Tho  nln 


134  BORDER  BEAGLES. 

v/oinaii  set  all  the  water  in  the  house  a-boiling,  and  it  got  quite 
too  hot  for  Ned.  He  started  off  and  I  followed  him,  and  while 
we  were  talking  together  under  the  trees,  who  should  come  up 
but  these  two  fellows.  Horsey  followed  to  get  satisfaction  for 
the  blow,  which,  it  was  surprising  to  me,  he  took  so  lightly  at 
first.  He  thought  better  of  it  afterward,  however,  and  did  bet 
ter  ;  for,  I  tell  you,  he  handled  poor  Ned  in  two  minutes  in  a 
way  that's  a  caution.  He  downed  him,  a  fair  stupid  down  — 
Ned  rolled  about  like  a  drunken  bullock,  and  got  mighty  sick 
with  both  eyes  shut  up,  and  a  great  retching  at  his  btomach.  I 
had  tight  work  to  keep  him  steady  on  his  nag  and  get  him  safe 
ly  home.  Since  then,  when  he  recovered,  he's  been  in  a  mighty 
crooked  humor.  He  swears  that  I  don't  want  be  should  have 
the  girl — that  I'm  only  playing  'possnm,  and  half  believes  that 
I  set  this  fellow,  Horsey,  on  to  beat  him,  though  nobody  could 
have  been  more  willing  for  the  fight,  at  first,  than  Mabry  him- 
self." 

"  Does  ne  threaten  ?" 

•4A  little  squinting  that  way,  though  he  don't  speak  out 
plainly.  But  he'd  threaten  and  tell  too,  if  so  be  he  thought  I 
was  only  shamming  in  the  business  with  Mary." 

"  You  must  run  it  through  then,  as  fast  as  possible.  He  will 
scarcely  speak  anything  to  your  discredit,  if  he  was  once  mar 
ried  to  your  daughter." 

"  No !  But  that's  the  worry.  The  old  woman's  hot  ag'in 
him.  She  thinks  Mary  meat  for  his  master ;  and  I  do  really 
believe  she  fancies  to  marry  her  to  a  colonel  or  some  great  law 
yer,  or  maybe  to  a  member  of  Congress.  She  always  rides  a 
high  horse  when  she  talks  about  Mary  ' 

"But  the  girl  herself?" 

"  Likes  him  no  better  than  Bess.  He  stands  but  little  chance 
with  either  of  them." 

"  But  if  Bess  approved,  would  not  that  help  his  chance  with 
Mary  T 

"Why,  yes;  but  that's  the  swamp  —  worse  than  the  Big 
Black  —  which  I  can't  manage  to  cross  nohow." 

"  Why  not  make  Mabry  a  colonel  1  The  thing  might  very 
easily  be  done.  You  can  beat  up  and  bring  in  stray  voio.t- 
enough  to  turn  t.b«*.  election,  if  Hi,--  fellow  could  do  anything  ioi 


POLITICIANS    AMON<;    TIIK    OUTLAWS.  lOO 

himself.      We  must  manage  this  matter  hereafter.      For  this 
other  fellow,  now — " 

"  Vernoii  ?" 

«Yes — of  course,  you  know  which  bed  he  sleeps  in.  Did 
you  give  an  eye  to  his  portmanteau  7" 

"It's  in  the  room  with  him  —  I  put  it  myself  by  the  chim 
ney.  You  don't  mean  to — " 

Yarbers   paused,  and   looked  vacantly  in   the   other's  fa-e 
leaving   the   sentence  unfinished.      Saxon   smiled   after  a  mo 
ment's  hesitation,  and  replied  — 

"  You  are  afraid  to  have  more  work  on  your  hands  than 
was  stipulated  for.  Be  under  no  concern.  We  shall  avoid 
blood-spilling  and  violence,  as  a  general  good  policy,  which  v 
the  more  important  to  observe  now  when  we  are  under  partial 
suspicion  already.  All  that  we  ask  of  you  is  to  find  out  what 
he  carries.  You  must  get  his  papers ;  and  this  you  can  do,  1 
trust,  without  difficulty.  You  have  the  old  trap  in  the  floor  by 
which  to  enter,  and  this  key  will  open  any  portmanteau-lock 
that  was  ever  sold  in  Mississippi.  As  for  his  life,  that  is  the 
least  consideration  so  long  as  we  know  his  game.  There  is 
more  chance  of  Mabry  growing  troublesome  than  he,  and  you 
may  yet  find  it  necessary  to  work  with  cold  steel  upon  him. 
Make  him  a  colonel,  and  if  that  doesn't  bring  Brown  Bess  to 
favor  him,  we  must  bribe  him  to  good  breeding  in  another  way 

"  It'll  be  hard  work.  I  never  seed  a  fellow  that  set  such 
store  on  a  ga'l  in  all  my  life.  He  can't  bear  to  see  anothei 
man  look  upon  her,  and  he  talks  of  nothing  else." 

"  Unless  it  be  of  you  ;  but  his  case  needs  no  immediate  atten 
tion.  This  of  Vernon  does.  Did  you  note  whether  his  saddle 
had  pockets  1" 

"  It  has.     I  searched  them  already,  but  found  nothing  worth 
telling  of.     There  was  a  newspaper,  and  some  old  accounts, 
take  it — they  looked  like  bills  and  calculation." 

"  You  cared  not  what  they  looked  like,  Yarbers,  when  you 
found  that  they  did  not  look  like  money.  But  I  must  see  those 
papers.  Where  is  the  saddle  ?" 

"  In  the  stable.  Shall  I  lead  your  horse  round  the  old  fie/d  J 
They  may  hear  his  footsteps  if  we  take  the  path." 

"Right — do  so.     I'll  await  pou  at  the  stall." 


136  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

Tarbers  had  put  a  tolerably  fair  estimate  upon  the  papers 
found  in  the  saddle-pouches.  An  examination  of  them  by 
*orehlight  resulted  in  no  discovery  such  as  Saxon  sought  for, 
ind  the  attempt  to  arrive  at  farther  knowledge  was  devolved 
for  the  present  upon  the  ad/oit  and  prying  industry  of  Yarben* 


CHAPTER   XII 

'HAPS  AND  TOGO  —  THE    RULING    PASSION    STRONG     N   SLEKf 

—  A   STAGE   SITUATION. 

>     .A  in  mine  authority  to  command 

'i*he  keys  of  all  the  posterns :  please  your  highness 

To  take  the  urgent  here :  come,  sir,  away." 

Winter'*  Tale. 

BEFORE  this  long  conference  was  ended,  sleep  had  overcome 
the  senses  of  Harry  Vernon.  The  imagination  which  had  so 
long  kept  him  wakeful  in  spite  of  the  day's  fatigue,  now  busied 
itself  only  in  his  dreams,  which  were  all  of  a  1i  ;nd  natural  to 
the  young  beginner  on  the  weary  paths  of  life.  With  a  heart, 
as  yet  unfettered,  and  a  fancy  free  as  that  of  the  bird  for  the 
first  time  winging  its  way  from  the  forests  to  the  ocean,  he  was 
conscious  only  of  that  void  and  vacant  region  in  his  bosom, 
which  is  intended  to  be  filled  by  love.  The  germ  was  there  of 
the  great  empire  over  which  the  imperial  master  was  yet  to 
rear  his  wand,  but  the  especial  divinity  had  not  bestowed  a 
glance  on  the  territory  she  was  destined  to  inhabit.  Warm 
and  waiting  for  the  advent,  the  heart  of  Harry  Vernon  did  not 
yet  repine  in  inconclusive  fancies,  hoping  and  sighing,  and  sur 
rendering  itself  to  imbecility.  He  suffered  himself  but  little 
time  to  brood  over  the  vague  desires  which  he  felt,  but  sum 
moning  to  his  side  the  thoughts  which  attend  on  duty,  he  ad- 
aressed  himself  with  ardor  to  the  actual  demands  of  existence, 
without  yielding  up  more  mind  than  was  necessary  to  such  as 
were  eventual  and  prospective.  It  was  only  while  he  slept 
that  his  fancy  gave  itself  up  to  the  desires  of  his  heart ;  and  alJ 


TRAPS   AND   TOGGERY.  187 

the  struggles  before  Ins  pathway  were  thrust  from  sight,  and  all 
his  duties  and  dangers  forgotten,  to  give  place  to  as  lovely  a 
vision  as  youthful  bard  ever  conceived  and  young  imagination 
ever  desired. 

A  maiden  conjured  up  in  realms  of  faery,  rose  before  his 
dreaming  eye — just  such  a  form  as  met  and  realized  the  ideal 
which  his  united  taste  and  reason  might  have  been  disposed  to 
create  at  a  moment  of  particular  inspiration.  She  was  tall  and 
graceful ;  her  skin  pure  as  marble  and  smooth  as  ivory ;  her 
eyes  black  and  streaming  with  a  melting  light ;  her  lips  soft  as 
the  leaf  and  richer  than  the  rose ;  her  cheeks  pale  but  radiant, 
almost  transparent  with  a  light  like  that  which  glistened  from 
her  eyes  ;  and  her  forehead  lofty,  spiritually  narrow,  and  shaded 
by  the  voluminous  masses  of  silk-like  hair,  darker  than  that 
which  shines  on  the  "shoulders  of  the  raven. 

She  stood  beside  him  —  such  was  his  dreaming  fancy  —  in  a 
vision  of  his  sleep.  He  had  sunk  for  shelter  beneath  the 
shadows  of  a  group  of  mighty  oaks  that  surmounted  the  brow 
of  a  hill,  and  was  surrounded  by  a  dense  and  untrodden  forest. 
His  horse  drank  the  while  and  cropped  the  herbage  upon  the 
banks  of  a  little  stream  that  wandered  down  the  hillside,  and 
lost  itself  in  the  deep  groves  of  a  thicket  which  hid  from  sight 
the  dark  and  gloomy  recesses  of  an  inland  swamp.  The  mid 
day  sun  shone  above  him  in  melting  fervor,  but  the  dense  fo 
liage  shielded  him  from  the  oppressive  heat,  and  but  a  few 
straying  straggling  gleams,  trembling  and  retreating  as  if  con 
scious  of  intrusion,  stole  in  at  intervals  between  the  branches, 
as  they  slowly  yielded  to  the  capricious  wind.  A  dark  shadow, 
as  if  from  an  overhanging  cloud,  suddenly  overspread  the  scene 
the  moment  ere  she  entered  upon  it,  but  at  her  approach  the 
cloud  disappeared,  a  glory  like  that  of  the  moon  enveloped  him 
with  its  soft,  fleecy  edges,  and  his  very  soul  seemed  to  melt 
within  him  as  the  entrancing  vision  drew  nigh  to  his  side. 

Other  forms  followed  and  crowded  upon  the  scene  —  strange 
events  and  mingling  action  disturbed  its  quiet,  and  his  eye  toiled 
in  the  survey  of  a  thousand  features,  each  changing  at  his 
glance  and  distracting  his  attention.  But  the  lovely  form 
which  had  fixed  his  eye  and  fastened  upon  his  soul  at  first,  wag 
still  to  be  seen  amidst  the  crowd  —  now  here,  now  there.,  nigb 


138  BORDER    BEACLR8. 

and  then  remote,  but  still  present,  hallowing  the  scene  to  soft 
ness,  mollifying  the  strife,  stilling  the  clamor,  and  subduing  the 
turbulence,  until  —  such  was  the  strange  fancy  —  the  sudden 
obtrusion  of  Horsey,  and  his  fierce  declamation,  affrighted  the 
delicate  and  ethereal  beauty  from  the  spot ;  and  he  started  from 
his  sleep  with  a  harsher  mood  in  his  bosom  toward  his  self-ap 
pointed  companion  than  any  which  he  had  ever  entertained 
before.  It  will  be  seen  how  far  the  random  actor  was  answer 
able  for  the  dispersion  of  his  happy  fancies. 

Horsey  was  not  without  his  visions  also ;  but  they  were  of  a 
very  different  character.  When  he  first  fell  asleep,  ^\s  nose 
performed  such  vigorous  airs  that  Vernon  was  apprehensive 
lest  they  might  greatly  interfere  with  his  own  desired  rest. 
But  the  mastery  of  this  solemn  member  was  disputed  at  frequent 
periods  by  his  tongue ;  which,  as  if  never  needing  rest,  contin 
ued  at  intervals  to  pour  forth  choice  fragments  from  his  favorite 
Shakspere,  growling  at  one  moment  in  all  the  ernphajtic  terrors 
of  the  tragic  muse  ;  at  another  softening  down  to  the  most  dulcet 
parts  of  love,  the  sweet  significant  nothings  with  which  every 
hero  regales  his  "  Amaryllis  in  the  shade." 

These  were  long  or  short  as  the  occasion  seemed  to  require 
them  ;  and  the  prompt  and  well-versed  memory  of  the  actor  ap 
peared  never  to  want  the  auxiliary  help  of  a  quotation.  Some 
times,  the  sentences  would  be  broken,  sometimes  complete ;  at 
first,  they  were  usually  short,  consisting  of  two  or  three  con 
secutive  words  of  a  single  phrase ;  but  Vernon,  who  listened  to 
him  for  a  while  with  smiling  curiosity,  observed,  as  the  night 
advanced,  that  he  rose  from  fragments  to  entire  passages,  and 
when  he  himself  was  sinking  into  that  sleep  which  yielded  him 
a  vision  so  entrancing,  he  was  conscious  that  the  actor  was  gli 
ding  into  the  dialogue  in  which  he  personated  the  love-sick 
Montague,  and  wooed  the  fair  Capulet  beneath  the  window 
Something  Vernon  caught  ere  he  himself  slept,  of— 

" strides  the  lazy  pacing  clouds 

And  sails  upon  the  bosom  of  the  air," 

followed  by  an  intense  ebullition  of  the  nostrils  which  probably 
answered  all  the  purposes  of  a  reply  from  Juliet ;  when  he  him 
self,  surrendering  to  the  oppressive  sleep,  lost  all  farther  appre 
hension  of  the  dialogue. 


TRAPS   AND   TOGGERY.  139 

But  it  was  continued,  nevertl unless,  by  the  actor,  though  so 
large  a  portion  of  his  audience  slept ;  and,  perhaps,  the  inter 
ruptions  from  his  nose  allowed  for,  he  never  went  through  the 
part  with  more  honest  unction  in  his  life.  That  he  might  have 
done  better,  or  at  least  toiled  for  it,  is  unquestionable,  if  he 
could  only  have  been  told  that  at  this  moment  his  audience 
was  increased. 

So  it  was.  Saxon,  the  outlaw,  and  his  adjunct  Yarbers* 
stood  without  the  dwelling  and  beside  the  chimney  of  the  shed- 
room  in  which  slept  the  travellers.  Their  ears  took  in  with 
readiness  the  earnest  and  pleading  devotions  of  the  amorous 
Romeo,  and  so  greatly  did  the  affair  tend  to  the  amusement  of 
the  former,  that  he  could  with  difficulty  restrain  himself  from 
taking  the  opposite  part  of  the  dialogue,  and  thus  stimulating 
the  enthusiastic  actor  to  increased  efforts.  But  the  more  timid 
Yarbers  was  opposed  to  this,  and,  speaking  in  whispers,  scarcely 
audible  to  his  immediate  companion,  dwelt  earnestly  on  the 
danger  of  discovery. 

"Pshaw,  John  Yarbers,  the  man  sleeps — soundly  too — no 
man  sleeps  more  soundly  than  him  who  dreams  of  what  he 
loves." 

"  But  the  other  fellow— Vernon !" 

"Ay — you  have  need  of  caution  there;  but  I  reckon  he 
sleeps  too.  You  must  lift  the  trap  cautiously  and  listen,  before 
you  do  anything." 

This  trap  was  simply  a  square  hole  in  the  floor,  made  by 
sawing  two  of  the  flooring-boards  across,  fastening  them  together 
by  a  cross-piece  below,  and  securing  them  with  common  hooks 
to  the  joist  beneath.  While,  therefore,  their  ends  rested  upon 
the  joists,  they  resisted  any  pressure  from  above,  and  it  was 
easy  for  one  under  the  house,  by  undoing  the  hooks,  to  raise 
the  trap  and  make  his  way  into  it.  The  fabric  stood  upon 
raised  blocks,  from  three  to  four  feet  from  the  ground,  and, 
obeying  the  direction  of  the  outlaw,  Yarbers  fell  upon  his  knees, 
and  soon  disappeared  beneath  it. 

It  was  easy  to  undo  the  hooks  which  secured  the  door,  but 
the  continued  declamation  of  Horsey,  in  spite  of  all  the  assu 
rances  of  Saxon  that  he  slept,  disturbed  the  nerves  of  the 
intruder,  and  he  once  more  returned  to  the  entrance  to  assure 


140  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

his  Companion  that  it  was  certainly  Vernon  who  snored  and 
Horsey  who  spoke ;  and  that  the  speaking  had  none  of  the  ob 
structions  or  hesitation  of  a  sleeping  man,  and  came  most  cer 
tainly  from  the  throat  of  one  as  perfectly  conscious  as  he  ever 
was  in  daylight.  The  impatient  outlaw  answered  him  with  an 
oath. 

"Yarbers,  you  are  but  a  dry  bone  after  all.  Stand  aside, 
and  let  me  do  it." 

"Stay,  sir  —  don't  you  hear  steps?  Don't  you  think  he's 
walking  ?" 

"  Pshaw,  man  !  It's  your  own  heart.  It  thumps  hard  enough 
to  scare  you,  I  doubt  not.  Where  does  the  portmanteau  stand  ?" 

"  Right  side  of  the  chimney  from  the  hall-door ;  and  the  sad 
die-bags  on  the  left." 

"  But  which  is  Vernon's  1" 

"  Fegs  !  I  don't  know.  I  warn't  home  when  they  come,  and 
I  s'pose  they  took  'em  off  the  creatures  themselves  and  brought 
'em  in.  There's  no  telling  which  is  which." 

"  That's  unfortunate.  We  must  then  examine  both,"  said 
Saxon,  as  he  crawled  under  the  house  and  made  his  way  to  the 
still  unopened  trap-door.  This  he  raised  with  sufficient  care, 
though  not  without  some  little  noise  —  the  hard,  heavy  pine,  of 
which  the  boards  were  made,  requiring  that  degree  of  effort  in 
raising  them  which  had  been  otherwise  necessary  to  keep  them 
in  equilibrium  and  prevent  the  edges  from  grazing  against  the 
surrounding  floor,  to  which  they  were  made  to  correspond  with 
tolerable  nicety.  Once  lifted,  the  intruder,  still  grasping  the 
door  in  his  hand,  raised  himself  and  stood  up  within  the  open 
ing,  his  head  and  shoulders  being  now  within  the  apartment. 
The  door  he  laid  down  gently  upon  the  floor  beside  the  trap,  so 
that  it  might  be  drawn  into  its  place  on  the  first  alarm. 

To  his  confusion,  however,  while  thus  engaged,  he  discovered 
that  the  conjecture  of  Yarbers  was  not  unfounded.  Horsey  was 
certainly  out  of  bed,  and  striding  the  floor  of  the  apartment. 
His  ruling  passion  had  grown  utterly  ungovernable  in  his  sleep, 
and  the  somnambulist  was  now  fairly  in  the  highest  realm  of 
hallucination.  His  movements  were,  however,  slow  enough  at 
this  period ;  and  Saxon  succeeded,  without  noise  or  interrup 
tion,  in  stretching  forth  his  hand  to  the  fireplace  and  securing 


THE   RULING    PASSION   STRONG    IN   SLEEP.  141 

the  saddle-bags,  which  were  the  first  that  came  within  his 
reach.  These  he  handed  through  the  aperture  to  his  comrade 
below,  who  proceeded  to  examine  them  in  the  moonlight  with 
out.  His  whispered  words,  as  he  looked  at  the  contents,  de 
clared  his  own  wonder,  while  they  satisfied  Saxon  that  he  had 
fallen  upon  the  wrong  chattels. 

"  Jackets  and  breeches  all  covered  with  gold  and  spangles." 

"  Stuff  'em  back,"  said  Saxon,  stooping  down,  and  whisper 
ing  ;  "  stuff  'em  back  and  hand  me  the  bags.  They  are  the 
actor's  baggage.  We  must  grope  for  the  other's." 

While  this  was  doing,  and  at  the  moment  when  Saxon  had 
received  them  in  his  hands,  and  was  about  raising  them  through 
the  hole  in  which  he  stood,  in  order  to  replace  them,  the  parox 
ysm  came  upon  Borneo  stronger  and  less  controllable  than  ever. 
A  rush  of  inspiration  filled  his  veins,  and  to  the  great  annoy 
ance  of  the  outlaw,  he  heard  him  growling  and  advancing. 
The  play  had  made  rapid  progress  in  the  sleep  of  the  actor. 
He  had  reached  the  fifth  act  —  he  had  got  his  poison  from  the 
apothecary — he  had  resolved  upon  his  own  death,  and  was 
hurrying  on  to  give  County  Paris  his. 

"  Give  me  that  mattock !"  he  cried  in  low,  hoarse  accents  to 
the  supposed  Balthazar  beside  him.  His  voice  then  subsided 
into  a  throng  of  pressing  whispers,  as  if  forced  to  speak,  yet  not 
desiring  to  be  heard.  This  brought  him  within  a  few  paces  of 
the  outlaw,  who  began  seriously  to  feel  the  inconvenience  of 
his  situation.  A  few  strides  more  would  bring  the  actor  upon 
his  shoulders,  and  into  the  pit.  To  withdraw  and  let  down  the 
door  at  that  moment,  might  be  to  arouse  the  sleeper,  and  defeat 
the  object  which  he  had  in  view ;  and  no  possible  effort  which 
he  could  make,  short  of  rushing  into  the  room  itself,  would  en 
able  him — this  he  discovered — to  reach  the  opposite  end  of 
the  fireplace  where  the  valise  of  Vernon  had  been  placed. 

While  he  stood  in  a  state  of  incertitude,  which  prevented  him 
from  doing  anything,  the  passion  of  the  actor  had  taken  a  new 
direction  from  the  approach  of  Paris.  He  had  gone  through 
the  paroxysms  which  made  him  beat  down  the  gate  of  the 
monument ;  and  here  Saxon  observed^with  some  surprise,  that 
he  now  spoke  the  part  of  Paris  as  well  as  his  own,  to  which, 
hitherto,  he  had  entirely  confined  himself.  The  inference  of 


142  BORDER    BEAGLEb 

the  outlaw  from  this  fact,  was,  that  the  pressure  of  sleep  was 
passing  off,  the  influence  of  imagination  lessened,  and  that  the 
actor's  ear  needed  the  absolute  reality  of  sound,  to  continue  any 
longer  in  his  self-deception. 

This  added  somewhat  to  the  apprehensions  of  the  intruder, 
who  was  not  suffered  very  long  to  speculate  upon  the  matter. 
The  language  of  Paris  was  threatening — that  of  Romeo  had 
assumed  a  tone  of  mildness,  which,  in  reality,  only  disguised 
the  laboring  volcano  in  his  bosom  : — 

" '  I  beseech  fhee,  youth, 
Pull  not  another  sin  upon  my  head, 
By  urging  me  to  fury.'  " 

Still  he  approaches,  and  his  arm  rises  as  if  balancing  the  sword 
"Live,"  he  says,  in  most  soliciting  tones — 

"'Live,  and  hereafter  say, 
A  madman's  mercy  bade  thee  run  —  away.'" 

Here  he  availed  himself  of  one  of  his  own  readings  of  the 
thousand  unimportant  distinctions  in  such  matters,  of  which 
stage-struck  citizens  are  so  apt  to  make  a  fuss.  Pausing  at  the 
word  "  run,"  which  he  had  spoken  along  with  the  whole  pas 
sage  in  the  gentlest  accents,  he  now  made  a  tremendous  transi 
tion,  and  the  final  word,  "  away,"  was  thundered  forth  in  tones 
to  waken  up  the  dead.  This  was  a  "  point"  upon  which,  in  his 
waking  moments,  he  was  very  apt  to  pride  himself.  The  an 
swer  of  Paris,  which  he  also  spoke,  fell  something  short  of  this, 
but  was  still  loud ;  and  he  had  scarcely  given  himself  time  to 
finish  it,  before,  reaching  the  acme  of  his  paroxysm  in  the  part 
of  Romeo,  he  gave  the  torrent  free  vent,  and  leaped  upon  the 
shoulders  of  Saxon,  while  he  cried  aloud  — 

'"Wilt  thou  provoke  me? — then  have  at  thee,  boy!'" 

The  situation  was  awkward  in  the  last  degree,  and  the  strug 
gles  of  Romeo  were  such  as  to  convince  the  outlaw  that  he  was 
rapidly  coming  to  his  senses.  Exerting  his  whole  strength, 
therefore,  he  seized  the  half-prostrate  actor  by  his  shoulders, 
and  flung  him  from  him  as  far  as  he  might  while  in  the  place 
in  which  he  stood,  not  giving  much  heed  whether  the  poor  fel 
low  was  brought  up  by  flint  or  feathers.  Then,  suddenly  sink 


RULING    PASSION    STiiG-N'G    IN    SLEEP.  148 

ing  down  with  equal  promptness  and  composure,  he  drew  the 
trap  into  its  place  with  a  degree  of  ease  which  added  but  little . 
to  the  bustle  which  the  previous  incident  had  occasioned. 

The  direction  given  to  Horsey  by  the  arms  of  Saxon,  carried 
him  upon  the  couch  of  Vernon,  whom  the  struggling  actor,  now 
emerging  into  actual  bodily  consciousness,  grappled  with  as  he 
was  rising  up  in  alarm,  and  continued  to  contend  with  as  if 
County  Paris  still  remained  to  be  slain. 

But  he  met  with  no  better  treatment  at  the  hands  of  Vernon 
than  from  those  of  Saxon,  being  tumbled,  by  a  very  unscrupu 
lous  movement,  backward  upon  the  floor,  where  he  lay,  for  a 
moment,  actually  at  a  loss  to  determine  where  he  was  and  what 
was  his  condition. 

Vernon  had  been  as  roughly  awakened  from  a  pleasant 
dream  as  the  actor,  and,  still  in  doubt  as  to  whence  the  annoy 
ance  arose,  he  was  soon  out  of  bed  and  standing  above  Romeo, 
the  moment  he  had  flung  him  from  him.  What  might  havo 
been  his  farther  act  had  not  Horsey  spoken,  though  doubtful  in 
character,  would  have  been  certainly  decisive.  The  tongue  of 
the  latter,  never  for  any  length  of  time  idle,  happily  resumed 
its  offices  in  time  to  prevent  more  mischief. 

"  Why,  Harry,  my  dear  boy,  is  that  you  ?  Why,  what  the 
devil's  the  matter  ?" 

"  Matter,  Mr.  Horsey.  That's  the  very  question  to  be  asked 
of  you.  How  came  you  on  my  bed  1" 

"Your  bed!  Was  that  your  bed,  Harry?  By  all  that's 
sacred  in  stage-lights,  I  took  it  for  the  tomb  of  Juliet;  and 
Paris  —  you  were  Paris,  my  dear  fellow." 

"  Do  you  walk  in  your  sleep,  Mr.  Horsey  ?"  asked  Vernonv 
now  beginning  to  conjecture  the  whole  affair. 

"  Egad,  it  may  be.  I  don't  know,  but,  certainly,  I  have  had 
a  strangely  exciting  dream.  It  was  our  first  night  at  Bent  on, 
Harry.  I  was  Romeo,  and  that  dear  little  Mary  made  her  de 
but  in  Juliet,  under  my  instructions.  If  I  ever  play  so  well  in 
reality,  as  I  fancied  I  played  this  night  —  as  I  must  have  played 
in  my  sleep  —  I  shall  ask  for  nothing  better.  But,"  rising  from 
the  floor  as  he  spoke,  "  my  shin  is  cursedly  bruised — the  fikin'e 
off;  I  can  hardly  get  up.  I  had  some  notion  that  I  had  got 
into  a  hole,  but — " 


144  BORDER  BEAGLES. 

The  voice  of  Mrs.  Yarbers  at  the  chamber-door,  demanding 
to  know  if  anybody  was  sick,  and  asking  the  cause  of  the  up 
roar,  silenced  the  actor.  After  satisfying  her,  he  was  very 
glad  to  slink  back  into  bed,  as  he  found  Vernon  unwilling  any 
longer  to  listen  to  his  description  of  the  scene,  and  the  detail  of 
points  newly-made,  which  had  broken  in  upon  fancies  of  his 
own  no  less  dear  and  exciting,  though,  possibly  —  it  was  his 
own  reflection — not  more  real  and  stable  than  those  of  his  com 
panion. 

Saxon  was  no  less  annoyed,  and,  perhaps,  with  more  serious 
cause  for  annoyance,  than  those  within.  He  waited  long  with 
out  the  house,  and  near  his  place  of  secret  ingress,  in  the  hope 
of  hearing  those  sounds  from  the  sleepers  which  should  assure 
him  of  an  uninterrupted  entrance.  But  he  waited  in  vain. 

Whether  it  was  that  the  rough  handling  which  Horsey  had 
received  had  utterly  expelled  the  nightmare,  or  whether  he  had 
become  conscious  of  the  unreasonableness  of  making  any  more 
disturbance  in  the  house,  and  was  willing  to  compensate  for  his 
excesses  at  one  moment  by  an  unusual  degree  of  forbearance  at 
another,  he  certainly  did  not  snore  again  that  night.  Vernon's 
was  a  well-bred  nose,  that  seldom  violated  the  rules  of  decorum ; 
and  hopeless  of  the  plan,  the  progress  of  which  had  been  so  for 
cibly  interrupted  in  the  first  instance,  the  outlaw  concluded  to 
defer  to  another  opportunity  his  intended  purpose. 

"  We  must  do  it  on  the  roadside  ;  and  it  may  be  necessary 
that  we  should  even  lay  hands  on  him.  These  papers  being  of 
value  he  would  most  probably  conceal  them  about  his  person 
It  is  barely  possible  that  they  should  be  in  the  valise,  and  we 
should  take  no  such  risks  as  this  on  the  strength  of  a  bare  pos 
sibility.  We  must  keep  your  house  in  the  reputation  of  being 
an  honest  one,  Yarbers,  as  well  to  serve  our  purposes  as  to 
please  your  wife.  Let  her  not  know  that  I  have  been  here 
to-night.  I  will  go  farther  up,  and  be  ready  for  our  man  at  the 
fork." 

"  She'll  guess  fast  enough  though  I  don't  tell  her.  She's 
mighty  'cute,  and  knows  the  bay  of  the  beagle  is  not  for  noth 
ing  in  these  parts." 

"  So  long  as  she  can't  see  the  beagle,  and  don't  know  whose 
name's  on  the  cdlar,  she  knows  nothing.  But  help  me  to  my 


A    STAGE   SITUATION.  145 

horse,  while  I  ride.  Jones  will  be  here  by  daylight,  I  suppose. 
You  can  send  him  after  me  when  he  comes." 

"  And  Mabry  ?" 

"  If  he  blab,  be  must  be  silenced.  If  the  mouth  won't  be 
sugared,  it  must  be  stopped.  You  will  see  him  to-morrow  when 
he  is  a  little  cooled  off"  from  the  drubbing  of  this  actor,  and  per 
suade  him  that  you  have  nothing  to  do  in  the  business.  Tins 
he  will  be  the  more  apt  to  believe  when  he  finds  his  enemy 
gone ;  and,  perhaps,  it  might  be  just  as  well  that  you  should 
see  him  at  an  early  hour  on  the  subject.  Should  nothing  an 
swer —  should  he  grow  troublesome  —  I  will  send  a  decoy- 
beagle,  who  will  get  him  into  Cane  Castle,  where  he'll  leave 
all  his  secrets  before  he  comes  forth." 

"There  was  one  here  for  you  to-day  from  Cane  Castle—- 
Stillyards." 

"  The  hunchback !  well,  what  said  he  ?" 

"  He  came  from  Monna." 

"  Ah  !  she's  impatient ;  but  she  must  wait.  She  would  fetter 
me,  Yarbers,  as  Brown  Bess  fetters  you,  but  that  my  blood  is 
quite  as  quick  and  impatient  as  her  own.  Yet,  she's  a  woman 
more  to  be  feared  than  Bess  She  can't  scold  so  well  —  nay,  she 
seldom  scolds;  but  she  thinks  and  broods  over  her  thoughts, 
which  are  sometimes  fearful  enough,  and  one  day  she  may  seek 
to  act  them  She's  secret,  Yarbers  ;  and  there  she  is  unlike 
Bess,  who  would  blab  everything  she  knew  to  your  hurt,  if  you 
once  put  her  into  a  passion.  Monna,  if  sometimes  fearful  as 
the  grave,  is  at  all  times  as  secret.  It  would  be  twenty  times 
our  good,  Yarbers,  were  your  wife  half  as  secret.  But  you 
took  her  for  better  or  worse,  and  so  must  we.  If  you  are  sat 
isfied  with  your  bargain,"  speaking  with  a  malicious  sin i ID 
"  your  friends  have  no  reason  to  complain." 


HORDER   BEAGLES. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE   RENTS  IN  "ROMEO" — BURNING  ONE'S  FINGERS— SPLENDID 
ANTICIPATIONS. 

"The  confidence  of  youth  our  only  art, 
And  Hope  gay  pilot  of  the  bold  design, 

We  saw  the  living  landscapes 

Reach  after  reach  salute  us  and  depart" 

WORDSWORTH. 

THE  travellers  prepared  to  set  forth  at  an  early  hour  on  the 
ensuing  morning.  The  adventures  of  the  night  had  tended 
somewhat  to  sour  the  usually  sweet  temper  of  the  actor.  His 
legs,  which  he  displayed  to  the  wonder  and  commiseration  of 
his  companion,  were  skinned  from  knee  to  ankle,  in  a  way  per 
fectly  mysterious  to  the  sufferer,  who  could  not  conceive  how 
such  an  affliction  could  have  arisen  simply  from  his  playing 
Romeo  to  empty  boxes. 

"  And  yet  it  seemed  to  me,  among  other  things,  that  it  wasn't 
Romeo,  neither,  but  Hamlet.  I  was  in  the  grave,  grappling — 
I'll  be  sworn  upon  it — with  Laertes,  with  whom  I  'fought  a 
long  hour  by  Shrewsbury  clock.'  It  must  have  been  in  the 
grave  that  I  got  these  bruises." 

That  imperfect  state  of  mind  which,  in  dreams,  so  happily 
unites  the  fanciful  with  the  actual,  had,  in  fact,  produced  a  rapid 
transition  in  his  thoughts  from  the  one  play  to  the  other,  while 
his  involuntary  struggle  in  the  hole  with  the  outlaw  suggested 
a  similitude  of  circumstances  so  favorable  for  a  change  of  scene  ; 
and  the  dawning  of  his  right  reason,  which  the  struggle  neces 
sarily  occasioned,  forced  upon  him  the  partial  conviction  that 
some  other  man,  of  considerable  brawn  and  muscle,  had,  like 
himself,  been  dreaming  a  part  also,  which  had  given  the  per 
formance  a  termination  so  perfectly  tragical.  His  inspection 
of  liis  saddle-bags  contributed  in  some  little  degree  to  his  con 
fusion.  The  contents  were  in  strange  disorder. 


THE   RENTS    IN    *l  UOMEO."  1  H 

"  Could  I  have  been  so  d — d  stupid  as  to  have  dressed  my 
self  in  costume  ?  I  don't  recollect  putting  it  back,  and  if  I  did, 
I  must  have  shown  a  singular  indifference  to  Romeo's  wardrobe 
to  have  put  it  up  without  folding.  Look  here,  Harry  Vernon, 
what  a  bunch  I've  made  of  it  in  my  sleep ;  a  bag  from  a  beg 
gar's  press — and  the  garment  perfectly  new  —  a  splendid  gar 
ment,  for  which  that  skunk  of  a  tailor  amerced  me  in  a  greater 
inn uber  of  dad's  dollars  than  I  should  be  altogether  willing  to 
count  up  in  his  hearing.  You  shall  see  me  put  it  on.  You 
shall  —  you  shall  form  an  idea  of  the  sort  of  chap  that  Caldwell 
quarrelled  with ;  you  shall  see  the  figure,  at  least,  of  a  Romeo 
not  to  be  met  with  every  day." 

This  scene  was  going  on  in  the  chamber  prior  to  their  ap 
pearance  before  the  family  in  the  hall.  They  had  been  already 
summoned  to  an  early  breakfast,  which  Vernon,  before  retiring 
for  the  night,  had  especially  solicited.  He  now  ventured  to 
remind  the  actor  that  the  family  and  breakfast  waited  upon 
them. 

"  Only  a  moment !"  exclaimed  the  actor  hurriedly,  as  he  pro 
ceeded  to  envelope  himself  in  the  glittering  garment  of  the 
amorous  Montague  —  "  only  for  a  moment !  It's  worth  a  glance 
from  a  veteran  stager.  Ha  !  what's  this?  —  a  hole  !  a  rent !" 

The  exclamation  of  the  actor,  distinguished  by  tones  expres 
sive  not  merely  of  surprise,  but  consternation  and  horror,  drew 
the  attention  of  Vernon  to  the  dress,  in  which  an  envious  nail 
—  probably  while  old  Yarbers  was  inspecting  the  glittering 
sack  beneath  the  house  —  had  torn  a  ringer's  breadth. 

"  What  the  d — 1  shall  I  do  ?  —  what  a  misfortune  !"  exclaimed 
the  actor,  with  a  degree  of  concern  infinitely  greater  than  any 
that  his  bruised  shins  had  occasioned. 

"  It's  but  a  small  hole ;  it's  easily  mended,"  said  Vernon. 

"  Small !"  exclaimed  the  actor,  with  some  indignation.  "  Ay, 
ay,  not  so  deep  as  a  well,  nor  so  wide  as  a  church  door,  but  'tis 
enough  to  call  for  the  instant  succor  of  a  darning  needle.  Juliet, 
that  is  to  say,  my  little  Mary,  here,  shall  take  it  up  off  hand 
She's  a  nice,  handy  body,  that ;  would  make,  with  training,  au 
admirable  Juliet —  gad,  'twould  be  a  charity  to  give  her  lessons, 
and  I'll  think  of  it.  But  to  the  Rorneo — she  shall  tak<*  up  the 
rent  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye." 


148  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

"  Surely,  Mr    Horsey,  you  will  not  delay  us  for  so  sra**l  a 

matter." 

"  Small  a  matter,  indeed !  By  St.  David's  best  buckles, 
Harry,  you  have  a  strangely  irreverent  way  about  you  !  Such 
a  rent  in  Romeo's  body  is  no  small  matter.  Let  the  audience 
see  a  hole  in  a  hero's  breeches,  and  d — me  if  it  don't  turn  all 
his  tragedy  into  farce.  I  once  saw  a  chap  named  Barnes  play 
ing  Lear,  with  his  shirt  —  an  ugly  corner  of  it,  I  mean  —  de 
pending,  for  all  the  world  like  a  streamer,  fully  a  quarter  of  a 
yard  from  his  inexpressibles.  The  audience  roared  with  ad 
miration,  which  Barnes  took  for  applause.  Never  did  a  fellow 
play  so  furiously  fine  —  with  so  much  earnestness  and  enthu 
siasm.  But  the  more  fire  he  put  into  his  acting,  the  more  it 
filled  them  with  laughter ;  all  of  which  he  mistook,  like  an  ass 
as  he  was,  for  pleasure  at  his  performance.  On  a  sudden,  how 
ever,  he  happened  to  fling  his  left  hand  behind  him  in  order  to 
adjust  his  sword,  and  he  grasped  along  with  it  the  obtrusive 
garment.  You  never  saw  a  fellow's  comb  cut  so  short  off.  He 
lost  his  voice  in  an  instant  —  his  head  dropped,  and  when  he 
came  round  to  the  wing,  the  sweat  stood  upon  his  brow  like 
treacle.  No,  no  !  I  am  clear  that  no  man  should  make  his  bow 
to  the  public  with  a  hole  in  his  breeches." 

Vernon  expostulated  against  the  delay,  but  in  vain.  A  new 
measure  suggested  itself  to  his  companion. 

"  While  her  hand's  in  at  one  thing,  she  can  do  the  other,  or 
I'll  do  it  myself.  I'll  get  Mary  to  heat  me  an  iron,  and  I'll 
smooth  it  before  I  start.  It's  ruined  for  ever  if  I  put  it  back 
in  this  condition." 

Vernon  saw  that  expostulation  and  entreaty  were  alike  vain. 
Horsey  made  a  point  of  healing  Romeo's  hurts — the  ruling 
passion  rendering  him  equally  obstinate  to  argument  and  en 
treaty  ;  and  with  a  complacency  as  enviable  in  the  eye  of  a 
traveller  as  it  is  desirable  in  that  of  an  actor,  he  sallied  from 
his  chamber  with  the  fractured  garment  in  his  hand,  and  pro 
ceeded  instantly  and  without  circumlocution,  to  declare  his 
requisitions  to  mother  and  daughter. 

"  Get  your  needle,  my  little  Juliet,  and  show  me  what  sort 
of  a  workman  you  are ;  but  first  put  me  an  iron  to  warm ;  I 
must  take  out  these  wrinkles." 


THE   RENTS   IN    ''KOMEO."  14U 

The  girl  willingly  assumed  the  performance  of  task  set  hei, 
and  Horsey  sat  down  the  while  to  breakfast,  but  his  eyes  were 
upon  her  as  she  sewed,  and  more  than  once  he  started  up  to 
look  at  her  progress. 

"  Well  enough  done,  Mary.  You  are  the  girl  after  my  own 
heart.  Egad,  if  my  wardrobe  suffers  much  more  injury  in  this 
fashion,  I  shall  not  be  able  to  do  without  you.  I  shall  have  to 
come  and  steal  you  from  mamma.  A  stitch  or  two  more  just 
there,  Mary,  if  you  please ;  and  now  that  I  look  at  it,  just  be 
neath  the  arm  I  see  that  a  thread  has  dropped.  The  garment 
is  rather  tight  over  the  shoulders,  and  it  is  only  a  timely  pre 
caution  that  would  guard  against  the  strain  of  any  great  action 
in  that  quarter.  A  man's  blood  gets  up  wondrously,  Harry 
when  he's  in  the  fury  of  a  fifth  act — when  he's  warmed  by  op 
position,  and,  more  than  all,  by  his  own  rising  consciousness  of 
what  is  called  for  by  the  character.  At  such  a  time  his  action 
increases  accordingly,  and  it  would  be  the  most  awkward  thing 
in  the  world,  if,  extending  his  arm  to  convey  the  idea  of  com 
mand,  to  order  Buckingham's  head  off,  or  any  matter  of  equal 
tragic  signification,  he  should  discover  to  the  inquisitive  audience 
a  rent  under  the  arm,  and  a  glimmer  of  a  white  cotton  shirt  be 
neath  his  buckram.  It's  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  to  upset 
the  gravity  of  an  audience  in  the  deepest  scenes.  One  fool  makes 
many,  and  the  first  booby  that  laughs  out,  without  any  fear  of 
shame,  finds  a  hundred  followers.  I've  seen  it  a  thousand  times, 
and  know  there  is  nothing  so  tragic  as  will  frighten  farce.  Farce 
follows  tragedy  as  naturally  as  the  sparks  fly  upward.  She  stands 
beside  her,  ready  to  grin  at  the  first  opening ;  and  let  dignity 
forget  herself  for  an  instant,  she  claps  her  hands,  and  darts  in, 
without  any  regard  to  decency,  before  all  the  spectators." 

Thus  rambling  on,  the  actor  ate  his  breakfast,  and  watched 
the  progress  of  Mary  with  her  needle.  The  bright  eyes  of  the 
girl  laughed  the  while,  and  her  cheeks  blushed,  when  he  hung 
over  her;  his  glances  being  equally  shared  between  the  semp- 
tress  and  the  garment.  The  breakfast  over,  Vernon,  with  some 
consternation,  beheld  him  proceeding  to  assist  tLa  mother  and 
daughter  in  removing  the  plates  sir.u  dishes,  in  order  to  convert 
the  t«*kU  ^A?>  -  tailors  board,  on  which  he  could  perform  the 

*oi-neeled  office  of  smoothing  out  the  rumpled  Romeo.     Old 


150  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

Yarbers  looked  on  with  a  scarcely-suppressed  smile,  which  was 
not  lessened  as  the  actor  confessed  to  having  disordered  his 
wardrobe  in  his  night-errant  habits.  He  could  have  told  a 
truer  story,  and  have  accounted  more  truly,  if  not  more  ration 
ally,  for  the  condition  of  the  saddle-bags.  But  he  was  prudent 
enough  to  conceal  his  knowledge,  and  suppress,  though  with 
difficulty,  his  laughter. 

The  actor  had  made  a  clean  breast,  and  declared  the  true 
cause  of  the  uproar  of  last  night  to  the  family.  There  was 
nothing  retentive  in  his  nature,  unless  it  might  be  in  the  one 
purpose  of  his  mood;  and,  prattling  ever,  like  the  downward 
running  fountain,  his  streams,  the  deeps  and  shallows  alike, 
were  equally  open  to  the  sunlight. 

Harry  Vernon,  meanwhile,  became  impatient  to  the  last  de 
gree.  Not  that  he  had  any  reason  to  wait  for  Horsey,  beyond 
that  of  mere  civility.  He  well  knew  that,  before  the  day  was 
out,  they  would  reach  the  spot  where  diverging  roads  should 
prove  convincingly  to  the  actor  that  his  course  was  other  than 
that  which  he  had  so  precipitately  and  erroneously  assumed  to 
be  the  same  with  his  own.  To  hurry  off  before  his  companion 
was  ready,  in  order  that  he  might  anticipate  this  truth,  would 
at  least  seem  rude,  if  it  were  not  so  in  reality ;  and  then  the 
utter  simplicity  and  good  nature  of  the  actor  pleaded  in  his  be 
half,  and  made  Vernon,  who  was  generously  and  nobly  consti 
tuted,  reluctant  to  do  anything  which  might  inflict  unnecessary 
pain,  even  though  he  well  knew  that  a  nature  so  mercurial  as 
that  of  Horsey  would  not  feel  it  long.  Resolved,  therefore,  to 
await  the  actor's  pleasure,  he  sat  resigned  to  his  fate,  and  be 
held  him  removing  the  hominy,  the  remnants  of  the  bacon  and 
eggs  —  the  mother,  father,  and  daughter,  equally,  and  in  vain, 
striving  to  prevent  him  from  performing  duties  so  seemingly  in 
consistent  with  the  dignity  of  a  gentleman  and  the  position  of  a 
guest.  But  his  activity  set  their  exertions  at  defiance.  Plate 
followed  plate,  and  dish  dish,  and  cup  cup,  without  stop  or  stay, 
until,  striving  to  sweep  up  in  one  common  effort  the  remaining 
odds  and  ends,  he  grappled  them  quite  too  unceremoniously  to 
gether,  and,  to  his  own  horror,  and  the  great  reddening  of  the 
hostess's  cheeks,  they  came  in  undistiiiguishable  ruin  to  the 
ground. 


151 

"Bless  my  soul,  Mrs.  Yarbeis,  but  what  have  1  done?  1 
have  broken  all  your  cups  and  saucers." 

«  No !  never  mind,  Mr.  Horsey,"  stammered  the  old  lady, 
half-angry  with  her  old  favorite,  yet  doing  her  utmost  to  con 
ceal  her  annoyance. 

"  It's  very  unfortunate.  I  certainly  had  'em  fast,  my  dear 
madam.  I  could  carry  twice  as  many.  I'll  show  you  now,  I'll 
bring  back,  in  two  turns,  all  that  I  have  carried  to  the  shelf;" 
and  he  actually  proceeded  to  restore  the  plates  and  dishes  to 
the  table  — "  and  if  I  break  so  much  as  a  teacup,  I'll  give  my 
head  for  a  football.  It  was  certainly  the  strangest  misfortune." 

Vernon  interposed  — 

"  Certainly  it  was,  Mr.  Horsey  —  a  sort  of  fatality  which  can 
no  more  be  accounted  for  than  helped.  All  that  you  can  do  is 
to  send  Mrs.  Yarbers  a  fine  set  from  Vicksburg  or  Natchez,  and 
take  care  to  meddle  with  no  more  cups  and  saucers.  The  table 
is  ready  for  you  now  —  why  not  smooth  the  garment?" 

"  True,  true,  my  cousin  of  Vernon,  that  is  a  good  thought ; 
and  Bess  —  hold  me  your  debtor  for  a  set  of  china,  the  best 
that  money  can  get  in  Natchez.  Nay,  nay,  I  will  have  no  re 
fusal —  it  must  be  so.  You  shall  have  the  cups  and  saucers  \  I 
swear  it  by  my  Romeo,  which  stands  waiting  for  smoothing. 
Let  me  have  the  iron,  Mary  nay,  don't  burn  your  pretty  fingers 
with  it  —  let  me  have  it." 

"  It's  hot,  Mr.  Horsey.  Better  take  it  up  with  the  towel, 
sir,"  said  the  girl.  But  the  rapid  actor  had  already  grasped 
the  iron  at  the  fire,  with  a  rapidity  only  exceeded  by  the  haste 
with  which  he  dropped  it  again ;  and  he  now  stood  blowing 
his  fingers,  his  face  red  as  a  lobster's  with  the  sudden  pain,  and 
his  mouth  puffing  and  speaking  alternately. 

"  Hot  as  —  phew!  phew!  —  the  skin's  off  fingers  as  well  as 
legs.  Phew  !  Harry,  my  dear  fellow,  what  an  accident !  Ay, 
do,  Mary,  that's  a  dear  girl  —  do  you  iron  it  for  me.  Let  your 
iron  lie  smoothly,  Mary,  my  dear,  and  take  care  that  it  doesn't 
scorch  Romeo  as  it  has  scorched  me.  That  blue  is  very  perish 
able —  phew  !  —  the  misfortune  of  all  things  that  are  very  beau 
tiful.  There,  there  —  I  think  that  will  do.  It  must  do.  I  won't 
worry  you  to  work  for  me  any  longer,  my  sweet  Juliet.  Mrs.  Yar 
bers,  why  didn't  yon  call  your  daughter  Juliet,  instead  of  Mary  ?" 


152  BOUDKIl    BKAGLES. 

"  As  well  might  Mrs.  Yurbers  ask  why  yen  were  not  called 
Romeo,  instead  of  Tom,  Mr.  Horsey.  The  one  question  might 
be  answered  just  as  readily  as  the  other.  But  time  presses  on 
me,  if  not  on  you ;  and  if  you  are  disposed  to  stop  until  you 
have  revised  all  the  Christian  names  in  the  county,  there  is 
certainly  no  good  reason  why  I  should  linger  to  assist  you." 

"  Right,  Harry ;  there's  right  and  reason  m  what  you  say. 
Mrs.  Yarbers,  the  best  friends  must  part  —  you  shall  hear  of  me 
soon,  and  see  me  again  when  I  have  got  through  my  business 
above.  Mary,  my  dear,  you  shall  be  my  Juliet  —  nay,  don't 
look  down  ;  I  tell  you  it  shall  be  so.  There  shall  go  an  oath  to 
it  that  shall  bind  one  of  us,  at  least;  and  unless  Mr.  Mabry  steps 
between  us  both  —  ha  !  so  you  turn  away  —  you  do  not  like  that 
—  well,  I  like  you  the  better  that  you  do  not;  and  so  good-by. 
1  It  is  a  grief  to  part'  so  brief  with  thee.  Come,  Harry  Vernon, 
I  am  ready  now." 

The  actor  had  prolonged  the  parting  words  and  moments  tc 
the  last  possible  limits,  and  somewhat  to  the  surprise  of  Vernon, 
he  saw,  or  fancied  he  saw,  an  expression  of  seriousness  and  in 
terest,  rather  beyond  that  of  his  ordinary  manner,  conspicuous 
in  what  he  said  and  looked  to  the  lovely  forest  damsel.  Nor, 
on  the  other  hand,  did  it  seem  to  Vernon  that  the  girl  was  en 
tirely  without  some  consciousness  of  the  interest  which  she  oc 
casioned,  and  that  which  she  felt,  for  her  little  rosy  lips  quiv 
ered  as  she  spoke  to  them  at  parting,  and  the  "good-by' 
trembled  in  imperfect  expression  upon  her  scarcely-opened 
mouth.  Mrs.  Yarbers  was  pleased  to  assure  both  the  travellers 
that  nothing  would  gladden  her  more  than  to  see  them  often ;  a 
compliment  which  she  then  repeated  to  Horsey  in  particular  ; 
and  one,  in  approbation  of  which,  her  lord  and  master  growled 
out  certain  confirmatory,  but  scarcely  intelligible  sentences. 

For  a  brief  space  after  their  departure  from  the  hovel,  the 
spirits  of  Horsey  seemed  considerably  depressed.  He  said  but 
little,  and  that  little  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  speaks  rather  to 
avoid  the  imputation  of  sullenness,  than  with  any  desire  to 
please.  When  he  did  speak  more  freely,  and  with  the  gradual 
assumption  of  his  former  mood,  his  expressions  revealed  the 
true  source  of  his  solemnity. 

14  There   is  something  monstrous  uncomfortable   at   parting 


PARTING.  158 

Harry,  even  with  acquaintances  of  yesterday.  I  don't  get 
over  it  for  an  hour  or  two.  It  seems  to  me  like  rooting  me  up, 
and  tearing  off  some  of  my  leaves  and  branches,  when  I  am 
compelled  to  grapple  hands  only  to  cast  them  loose  again.  It's 
true  it  don't  make  me  sick — for  that  matter,  I  shouldn't  go  to 
bed,  I  believe,  or  lose  stomach  for  a  dinner,  if  I  was  to  be  sep 
arated  for  ever  from  the  best  friends  in  the  world.  I  should 
only,  if  that  were  the  case,  take  a  pine  torch  in  my  fingers,  and 
go  about  looking  after  others ;  and  a  newer  set  might  soon  con 
sole  me  for  the  lost.  But  it  seems  to  weigh  me  down ;  my  limbs 
grow  weakish,  and  I  lose  all  desire  to  make  any  exertions  and 
scarcely  care  to  say  or  hear  anything,  though  the  best  passage 
offered  itself  for  quotation  jump  to  the  moment,  from  Billy 
Shakspere,  that  high  treasurer  of  all  manner  of  spoken 
jewels.  Now  I  feel  just  so  in  leaving  these  good  people.  It's 
true  Brown  Bess  is  an  old  crony.  I  know  nothing  about  her 
husband,  who  seems  but  a  curmudgeon ;  but  that  dear  little 
creature  —  that  Mary  —  don't  you  think  her  devilish  handsome, 
Harry  ?  What  a  forehead  she  has  !  what  lips,  eyes,  hair  !  A 
very  collection  of  beauties  !  Celia,  Rosalind,  and  Helen,  melt- 
jd  into  one ;  and  yet,  Harry,  she  did  not  speak  twenty  words 
to  me  the  whole  time  she  was  present." 

"  How  could  she  —  who  can,  Mr.  Horsey?"  replied  Vernon, 
laughing,  "you  out-talked  the  whole  family." 

"  The  lawyer,  also.  By  my  faith,  Harry,  but  that  I  heard 
you  made  a  long  and  good  speech  at  Raymond,  I  should  be  in 
clined  to  say  you  had  taken  up  the  wrong  profession.  Now  I 
should  have  been  the  lawyer." 

"  You  mistake.  You  would  soon  ruin  yourself  as  a  lawyer. 
You  would  soon  talk  yourself  aAvay.  A  lawyer's  words  are  the 
materials  he  works  with — you  would  soon  dull  them,  or  wear 
them  out.  Your  talking  lawyer  i&  a  profligate  who  cheapens 
his  own  wares  by  making  them  common.  To  talk  in  the  right 
place  is  his  art,  no  less  than  to  talk  to  the  purpose.  The  where, 
and  the  when,  and  the  how  much,  are  the  three  grand  requisites 
of  public  speaking." 

"  Egad,  if  that  be  the  case,  Harry,  I  should  be  soon  swal 
lowed  up  ;  for,  as  to  stopping  to  think  when  I  should  speak  and 
what  I  should  say,  that  would  seem  to  be  the  most  idle,  as  it  would 


lf>4  BORDKI:   LJKAKLKS 

certainly  be,  in  my  case,  the  na-ot  impracticable  tiling  in  the  world 
For  that  matter,  I  don't  know  half  the  time  that  I'm  talking, 
even  when  my  tongue  is  most  busy  '  beating  all  the  chimes  of 
Westminster.'  I  catch  myself,  every  now  and  then,  speechifying 
jf  my  own  head,  or  giving  a  reading  from  Shakspere  to  pine  trees 
and  gray  mosses,  wasting  myself,  as  the  rose  does  its  sweetness, 
•jpon  the  desert  air,  when  I  can  get  no  better  audience.  Such, 
1  trust,  will  not  be  our  fate  at  Benton,  however,  if  Tilton  lias 
any  skill  in  management,  and  the  Yazooians  any  taste.  By  the 
splinters,  you  shall  see  how  I  shall  drive ;  nay,  there's  no  good 
reason  why  I  should  not  give  you  a  sample  now.  Here's  a 
t[iiiet  spot  —  looks  for  all  the  world  as  if  it  was  meant  for  such 
a  purpose.  There  is  a  space  on  the  brow  of  the  hill  which 
would  accommodate  a  thousand  people,  and  the  pines  rise,  and 
the  oaks  spread  above  and  around  it,  and  the  vines  link  them 
together  and  fill  up  the  space  between  ;  so  that  the  amphitheatre 
of  the  Romans  was  never,  so  compact,  and  not  half  so  well  cov 
ered.  And,  in  the  woods,  with  green  leaves  around  me,  my 
voice  seems  to  have  a  volume  and  a  clearness  that  I  can  not  al 
ways  command  in  a  building.  Ride  up  with  me  for  a  minute 
and  you  shall  see  as  good  an  imitation  of  Forrest  —  did  you 
over  meet  with  Forrest,  Harry  '?  A  splendid,  half-savage-look 
ing  fellow  — a  sort  of  Mark  Antony  before  dinner  —  who,  by  the 
way,  would  make  a  figure  in  Dryden's  Antony,  perhaps  supe 
rior  to  any  who  has  yet  tried  it.  But  I  will  show  you  Forrest 
in  Damon  —  you  shall  have  the  strangling  scene  —  I'll  choke  a 
pine  sapling  for  Lucullus  —  I'll — " 

He  commenced  riding  up  the  hill  as  he  spoke,  but  Vernon 
stopped  him. 

"  I  ride  on,  Mr.  Horsey.  I  would  not  now  stop  to  see  For 
rest  himself." 

"  The  d — 1  you  wouldn't." 

"  No,  on  my  soul  I  wouldn't." 

The  actor  stared. 

"  Harry  Vernon,  you  are  a  bundle  of  mysteries.  How  can 
it  be  that  you  love  the  stage?  — nay,  how  can  you  yourself 
play  with  any  hope  of  success  unless  you  are  willing  to  behold 
the  best  models  T' 

"  Your  remark  reminds  mo  of  the  error  undnr  which  you  hav«« 


PARTING. 

labored  so  long  and  under  \vliicli  yon  still  labor  :"  was  tlio,  reply 
of  Vernon  expressed  in  boks  equally  grave  with  his  language. 
"  I  will  not  ask,  Mr.  Horsey,  by  what  means,  or  by  whom,  you 
became  possessed  of  the  idea  that  I  entertained  a  passion  for 
the  stage  and  had  resolved  to  go  upon  it.  It  is  enough  that 
such  is  your  delusion,  entertained  in  spite  of  my  earnest  and 
repeated  assurances  that  such  was  not  my  intention  —  that  I 
had  no  such  passion,  and  that  I  was  already  earnestly  and  irre 
vocably  bound  to  the  pursuit  of  another  profession  —  one  of  the 
most  jealous  as  the  most  absorbing  —  which  will  suffer  neither 
rival  nor  interruption.  With  a  most  unbecoming  resoluteness 
you  refused  credence  to  my  own  assurances  to  this  effect,  and 
have  appointed  yourself  my  travelling  companion,  without 
knowing  how  far  I  desired  company,  or  whether  your  presence 
might  not  somewhat  interfere  with  the  object  of  my  pursuit. 
It  has  not  been  through  your  forbearance,  Mr.  Horsey,  that  it 
has  not  done  so,  arid  I  trust  you  will  believe  me  when  I  tell 
you  that  it  has  been  with  me  a  serious  fear  that  such  might  be 
its  effect.  Finding  you  possessed  with  this  strange  notion,  and 
having  exhausted  all  my  forms  of  speech  in  seeking  to  convince 
you  that  I  was  no  actor,  and  did  not  intend  to  become  one,  I 
forebore  —  in  consideration  of  your  parents,  who  have  treated 
me  so  kindly,  and  with  some  reference  to  yourself,  for  I  am  not 
blind  to  your  good  qualities  and  natural  parts  —  farther  expos 
tulation  and  complaint,  and  was  contented  that  you  should  re 
main  in  your  error  for  a  while,  satisfied  that  it  would  not  be 
very  long  before  you  would  be  disabused  of  it.  That  time  is 
now  at  hand ;  a  few  miles  farther  will  bring  us  to  the  forks, 
and  you  will  then  find  that  I  will  certainly  take  the  upper  road 
for  Beattie's  BlufF,  while  you,  if  your  aim  be  Benton,  will  as 
certainly  take  that  which  crosses  the  river  below.  It  only  re 
mains  that  I  should  again  assure  you,  with  all  the  solemnity  of 
an  oath,  though  I  make  none,  that  I  am  by  profession  a  lawyer, 
that  I  have  never  dreamed  of  any  other,  and  do  not  know,  and 
have  never  thought  to  inquire,  whether  I  have  the  most  partial 
qualification  for  the  stage.  I  admire  good  acting,  am  not  defi 
cient  in  a  knowledge  of  the  best  dramatists,  can  quote  Shak- 
spere  almost  as  frequently,  if  not  so  felicitously  as  yourself, 
and.  nt  auJther  time  than  this  —  with  less  care  upon  my  mind 


BORDER  BEAGLES. 

and  less  business  upon  my  linmls  —  I  should  be  particularly 
pleased  to  hear  you  in  any,  and  all,  of  your  favorite  parts. 
Believe  me,  Mr.  Horsey,  from  what  I  have  already  seen,  I 
urn  prepared  to  believe  that  it  is  in  your  power,  with  study, 
wdustry,  and  humility,  to  rise  to  considerable  distinction  in 
our  art." 

"  Say  you  so,  Harry  ?  Then  I  forgive  you  all  the  rest.  I 
forgive  you  all  that  d — d  dignity  that  makes  me  feel  all  over 
as  if  Carter  himself  had  caught  me  playing  tricks  with  my 
neighbors'  sign-boards,  and  was  scoring  me  hip  and  thigh  with 
a  most  thorny  morality.  But,  Harry,  do  you  really  think  from 
what  you  have  seen  that  I  should  become  a  proper  actor1?" 

"  I  do,  really,  Mr.  Horsey." 

"  That  is  to  say  with  study  and  industry.  But  what  do  you 
mean  by  humility?  I  don't  see  any  necessity  for  humility. 
Indeed,  that's  the  last  matter  that  a  modern  actor  esteems  ?.s  a 
requisite." 

"  The  most  necessary  of  all ;  for  without  humility  one  learns 
nothing.  He  will  neither  see  in  what  he  is  himself  defective, 
nor  in  what  consists  his  rival's  superiority.  He  can  learn  noth 
ing  who  believes  there  is  little  left  him  to  learn,  and  he  alone 
learns  all  that  man  can  teach,  who  is  humble  enough  to  doubt 
his  own  possessions,  and  hopeful  enough  to  labor  for  their  in 
crease.  I  should  have  high  hopes  of  you,  Mr.  Horsey,  could 
you  bring  yourself  to  this  conviction." 

"  God  bless  you,  my  dear  fellow,  these  are  devilish  kind 
words  of  yours.  Devilish  kind !  I'm  d — nably  unused  to 
them.  I've  heard  nothing  all  my  life  but  censure ;  sneer  and 
censure.  Managers,  and  actors,  and  audience  —  no,  d — me,  I 
won't  say  anything  about  the  audience  —  they  have  always 
treated  me  well  enough  whenever  I  had  fair  play  before  them 
—  but,  by  my  soul,  I  can't  say  the  same  for  my  brother  actors, 
and  still  less  favorably  can  I  speak  of  managers.  Had  I  be 
lieved  them,  I  should  have  cut  my  throat,  or  turned  in  as  a 
wagoner,  or  taken  to  some  other  villanous  handicraft  which 
only  suffers  a  man  to  know  that  he  is  alive  at  meal-time.  They 
have  denied  all  my  hopes  and  decried  all  my  talents ;  and  then 
came  doubts  to  my  mind  —  doubts,  dark,  dirty,  earth-whelming, 
miserable  doubts,  Mr.  Vernon  —  that  made  mv  soul  sick,  and 


EXPLANATIONS.  157 

made  mo  feel  as  if  I  could  steal  away  into  some  dark  corner  of 
the  woods  and  die ;  satisfied,  if  out  of  human  sight,  that  they 
spoke  nothing  but  the  truth  —  that  I  had  deceived  myself — 
that,  in  short,  I  had  none  of  that  genius,  the  fires  of  which  1 
fancied  to  be  blazing  away  proudly  and  inextinguishably  in 
soul  and  brain.  Oh,  Harry  Vernon,  these  were  killing,  crush 
ing  doubts  ;  —  and  when  they  came  to  me,  as  they  always  did 
when  I  was  out  of  money,  and  the  d — d  tailors  and  tavern- 
keepers  at  my  heels,  I  felt  all  over  as  the  meanest  of  all  possi 
ble  beings.  But  you  cheer  me  ;  your  words  —  for  I  believe 
you,  Harry,  to  be  a  d — d  smart  fellow  —  your  words  reassure 
me.  I  feel  my  courage  rise ;  I  feel  the  fire  blazing  up  within 
me,  and  by  all  that's  resolute  in  man,  it  shall  blaze  out,  ere 
many  days,  to  the  satisfaction  of  others.  But,  though  you  give 
me  life,  Harry,  curse  me  but  you  crush  me  again  when  you  tell 
me  you  are  not  one  of  us.  I  can  hardly  believe  you  even  now. 
I  heard  it  so  solemnly  asserted,  and,  indeed,  lost  and  paid  a  bet 
on  the  matter." 

"  Something  strange,  at  least,  in  all  this  business,"  said  Ver 
non,  curiously.  "  Pray  where  did  you  hear  this  story  ?" 

"  In  Raymond,  while  you  were  talking  in  the  courthouse." 

"  My  talking  in  the  courthouse,  alone,  should  have  sufficed  to 
prove  my  profession." 

"Yes,  it  would;  and  it  did,  at  first;  but  there  was  a  d— d 
plausible  story  told  me  about  the  matter,  which  made  me  throw 
it  all  up  as  so  much  gammon." 

"  And  who  took  so  much  interest  in  me,  and  so  much  pains  to 
lead  you  astray  in  this  matter,  Mr.  Horsey  ?  Can  you  remem 
ber?" 

The  actor,  without  hesitation,  gave  full  details  of  the  confe 
rence  with  Hawkins  and  Saxon  in  the  village  of  Raymond,  nar 
rated  such  portions  of  the  dialogue  as  had  special  reference  to 
theatricals  and  his  companion's  probable  connection  with  them, 
and  from  the  succinctness  of  his  statements,  and  the  clearness 
with  which  he  repeated  the  several  parts  taken  by  the  two,  he 
soon  convinced  Vernon  that  there  must  have  been  a  sinister 
purpose  in  the  minds  of  the  men  who  made  such  seemingly 
gratuitous  misstatements.  The  name  of  Hawkins  strengthened 
this  conviction 


158  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

"  Hawkins !  Hawkins  !  That  was  the  name  of  the  man 
whom  the  governor  arrested." 

"  The  same,"  replied  Horsey.  "  He's  a  strange  sort  of  sus 
picious  chap.  Everybody  thinks  there's  something  wrong 
about  him;  but  they  can't  tell  what.  He  gambles,  they  al] 
know ;  but  he's  so  cunning,  they  can  find  nothing  worse 
against  him ;  though  I've  no  doubt  they're  right  in  thinking 
him  a  great  rascal." 

"  Indeed !  and  can  it  be  that  you  value  your  character  so 
little  as  to  consort  with  a  fellow  whom  you  think  a  rascal  ?" 

"  Ah,  Harry,  there  you  have  me.  But,  truth  to  speak,  a 
poor  devil  like  myself  whom  one  set  snarls  at,  and  the  other 
laughs  at,  is  devilish  well  satisfied  to  get  a  companion  who  will 
do  neither,  without  being  particularly  anxious  to  know  whether 
he's  as  good  a  man  as  he  should  be,  or  even  as  he  appears.  Be 
sides,  let  me  tell  you,  Hawkins  is  a  smart  fellow.  He  has  Shak- 
spere  at  his  fingers'  ends,  and  I've  seen  him  throw  that  into  his 
face,  while  he's  been  going  through  a  part  of  lago,  which  would 
send  a  shiver  through  pit  and  gallery  at  a  glance." 

"  Enough ;  these  men  have  lied  to  you,  Mr.  Horsey,  at  least 
so  far  as  I  have  been  concerned.  They  have,  I  gather  from 
your  account  of  it,  used  you  as  a  spy  upon  me." 

"  The  devil  you  say  ?" 

"  Think  over  the  matter  yourself,  my  friend,  and  you  can 
not  escape  this  conviction.  They  have  flattered  your  ruling 
passion,  and  have  gleaned  from  you  all  the  knowledge  of  me 
and  my  movements  which  might  have  been  in  your  possession. 
Fortunately,  you  knew  nothing,  and  could  reveal  nothing,  noth 
ing  at  least  of  very  serious  importance.  Whether  anything 
worse  will  grow  out  of  it  than  this  wild-goose  chase  upon  which 
they  have  sent  you,  it  is  impossible  now  to  say.  It  will  be  im 
portant,  however,  tnat  we  should  both  be  cautious  in  our  future 
progress." 

"  Spoken  like  a  book,  Harry.  But  why  the  d — 1  should  these 
fellows  want  to  know  your  movements — heh?  So  you  Tiavt 
secrets,  Harry  —  there  is  a  mystery  —  there — " 

"  Professional  and  personal,  purely,  Mr.  Horsey,  and  when  I 
tell  you  this  much,  I  trust,  I  secure  myself  against  further  in 
quiry.  To  convince  you,  however,  that  I  regard  you  with  h> 


TIMELY    COUNSEL.  I5(J 

lerest  and  favor,  1  make  free  to  counsel  you  to  return  to  your 
friends  and  family.  I  do  not  believe  this  story  of  theatrical 
establishments  at  Benton  and  other  places.  The  country  is 
unfit  for,  and  unable  to  support  them.  A  circus,  now,  would 
be  more  reasonable ;  a  place  for  ground  and  lofty  tumbling ; 
but,  seriously,  I  look  upon  the  dramatic  art  as  utterly  foreign 
to  such  regions  as  the  Yazoo.  There  is.  as  yet  no  settled  pop 
uhition.  The  country  is  uncleared,  and  thoroughly  wild  ;  set 
tled  by  squatters  chiefly  —  without  means,  tastes,  education,  or 
sensibility ;  rude,  rough  people ;  a  people  peculiarly  fitted  foi 
the  conquest  of  savages  and  savage  lands,  but  utterly  incapable 
/  of  appreciating  an  art  so  exquisite  and  intellectual  as  that  of 
the  legitimate  drama.  Go  back,  and  if  it  be  your  resolute  de 
termination  to  seek  for  fame  in  the  prosecution  of  your  present 
purpose  —  which  I  would  not  counsel  —  seek  -it,  then,  where 
only  it  is  to  be  found.  Go  to  the  large  cities  —  go  to  the  largest. 
Where  the  ability  exists  to  pay  best,  there  will  always  the  best 
talent  assemble  —  there  will  the  true  standards  of  critical  judg 
ment  be  formed  and  rival  powers  will  soon  reduce  each  other  to 
their  just  level,  until  which  there  can  be  no  certain  reputation." 
There  is  something  very  puny  in  the  judgment  of  small  commu 
nities;  and  something  very  contemptible  in  being  a  little  lion 
in  a  little  plain.  Go  to  the  ring  where  all  the  challengers 
assemble,  and  strike  the  shield  of  the  most  insolent  and 
bold.  When  you  have  done  this,  you  will  find  your  level,  and 
what  is  of  more  importance  to  you  still,  you  will  have  justly 
arrived  at  a  knowledge  of  your  own  strength.  Till  then,  you 
walk  in  vapor,  and  the  stars  which  shine  above  you  are  far  or 
near,  according  to  the  wind  and  the  weather,  your  own  caprice 
of  mood,  or  the  caprice  of  feeling  and  judgment  of  those  with 
whom  you  mingle.  Understand  me,  Mr.  Horsey,  I  do  not 
counsel  you  by  what  I  have  said,  to  pursue  the  stage.  Far 
from  it.  I  believe  the  glories  of  the  profession  to  be  very  un 
certain,  and  its  golden  rewards,  half  the  time,  to  be  visionary ; 
besides,  it  is  attended  by  a  thousand  defeats  and  humiliations 
which  are  gall  and  wormwood  to  the  independent  spirit.  On 
this  head,  you  know  best  what  you  will  do,  and  to  your  calm, 
common  sense  reflection,  I  am  willing  to  leave  it.  But  if  you 
are  esolved  to  be  an  actor,  then  it  is  my  advice  that  you  break 


BORDER   BEAGLES. 

ground  where  the  audience  is  large,  and  where  the  competitors 
are  many ;  where  you  will  be  compelled  to  take  pains  to  pre 
serve  rank  and  respectability,  and  where  no  petty  management 
or  petty  clique  can  prevent  your  efforts,  or  do  injustice  to  your 
performance.  Gro  to  the  great  city,  if  you  must  act,  and  t'hrow 
yourself  upon  the  waters.  Remember  the  noble  chorus  in  youi 
own  favorite  play  : — 

"  '  A  kingdom  for  a  stage,  princes  to  act, 

And  monarchs  to  behold  the  swelling  scene, 
Then  should  the  warlike  Harry,  like  himself, 
Assume  the  port  of  Mars — ' 

It  is  only,  you  perceive,  where  the  field  is  large  —  commensurate 
to  the  greatness  of  the  actor  —  that  he  can  be  like  himself — that 
lie  can  do  justice  to  himself,  or  feel  that  ambitious  spurring  of 
the  soul  which  is  conscious  always  of  her  true  occasions." 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

RIFLE    PRACTICE WRONG    CUSTOMER ADDITION    TO    THE 

DRAMATIS    PERSONS.  , 

"You  see  this  chase  is  hotly  followed,  friends." — KINO  HENRY  V. 

WE  arrest  the  further  dialogue  which  took  place  between  the 
two  before  their  separation.  Horsey  was  gratified  at  the  inter 
est  which  Vernon  seemed  to  take  in  his  fortunes,  for  the  simple 
but  dignified  manners  of  tRe  young  lawyer  had  impressed  him 
with  a  respectful  deference,  which  had  the  effect,  not  unfre- 
quently,  of  restraining  his  exuberance  of  character,  and  compel 
ling  him  to  meditate  awhile  before  speaking ;  a  practice  exceed 
ingly  novel  to  him,  and  one  which  kept  him  from  sundry 
outbreaks  of  folly  while  they  were  in  company  together.  He 
listened  with  unaccustomed  patience  to  the  exhortations  of 
Vernon,  and  though  he  had  not  the  courage  to  forbear  the  small 
game  which  he  was  even  then  pecking  at,  he  acknowledged  the 


PARTING. 

generally  beneficial  tenor  of  the  advice  given  him.  He  was  not 
willing  to  believe  that  the  forest  world  in  which  he  was  about 
to  penetrate  was  unsusceptible  of  present  dramatic  improve 
ment,  and  still  less  was  he  willing  .to  tolerate  the  suspicion, 
which  his  companion  threw  out,  that  the  story  of  Tilton's  theat 
rical  establishment  at  Benton  was  a  falsehood  —  a  hoax  invented 
for  the  simple  purpose  of  securing  him  as  an  instrument  in  the 
prosecution  of  some  ulterior  purpose  as  yet  unaccountable  to 
either  party.  His  heart  was  set  upon  obtaining  the  plaudits  of 
the  Bentonians,  and  his  ears  already  rang  prospectively  with 
their  clapping  and  huzzas.  These,  he  thought,  would  not  be 
amiss,  even  though  at  some  future  period,  he  struck  at  the  high 
er  game  of  the  great  metropolis.  Small  triumphs  are  the  fore 
runners  of  great  ones ;  and  he  was  one  of  those  who  thought  it 
just  as  well  to  accept  the  wreath  of  myrtle,  if  the  more  enduring 
laurel  could  not  be  so  easily  procured.  With  this  philosophy 
he  was  the  more  readily  reconciled  to  a  separation  from  the 
companion,  in  conjunction  with  whom,  until  the  present  hour, 
he  fancied  he  was  about  to  enter  the  green  and  verdurous  fields 
of  an  actor's  immortality.  He  had  many  regretful  quotations 
to  utter;  many  protestations  of  fidelity  and  friendship. 

"  And  should  you  want  help,  Harry,"  he  cried  out  as  they 
rode  asunder,  "  should  you  get  into  any  spree  and  wrant  a  backer 
to  see  you  safe,  give  me  a  sign,  a  signal  —  let  me  have  the  cue 
—  and  by  the  ghost  of  Garrick,  I  will  need  no  prompter  to  tell 
me  what  my  part  should  be  in  the  business.  I  will  be  at  your 
side  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  and  they  shall  be  Turks  and 
Trojans  of  heavy  metal,  indeed  —  Syracusans  of  stamp  and 
substance  —  who  will  hold  their  ground  long  before  us  twain  — 
my  Pythias  and  myself." 

Long  and  heartily  did  the  adhesive  actor  wring  the  hand  of 
hi.s  companion,  to  whom,  though  not  an  ascetic,  the  scenic  ex 
uberance  of  his  friend  had  become  almost  an  annoyance ;  and 
he  found  it  a  relief  to  escape  from  that  excruciating  degree  of 
affection  to  which  he  felt  unable  to  make  more  than  a  very  par 
tial  return.  His  escape  was  at  length  effected,  though  Horsey, 
like  Prior's  thief:  — 

"Now  fitted  the  halter,  now  traversed  the  cart, 
And  often  took  leave,  but  seemed  loath  to  depart" 


162  BORDEtt    BEAGLES. 

It  will  somewhat  confirm  the  truth  of  the  assurances  of  sorrow 
which  he  expressed  at  parting  with  his  friend,  to  say,  that,  for 
full  twenty  minutes  after  leaving  him,  he  uttered  no  single  quo 
tation,  unless  we  may  except  the  fragment  of  a  speech  made  to 
his  horse,  the  renewal  of  whose  irregular  motion  had  revived 
all  the  peculiar  sensibility  of  old  sores  made  the  day  previous. 

"  Ah,  Bowline,  Bowline  !  Shakspere  almost  gave  me  warning 
against  thee  in  particular ;  certainly  I  have  the  '  rubbers,'  though 
I  did  not  expect  them.  If  you  go  on  at  this  rate,  you  limping 
d — 1,  Romeo's  quarters  will  be  in  no  condition  to  climb  balco 
nies,  or  do  the  necessary  action  of  a  lover.  I  am  parche-d  and 
peeled,  hip  and  thigh,  literally  scalded,  as  tender  as  a  steamed 
potato,  and  as  raw  as  a  thoroughly  done  one.  Well,  well,  it  is 
to  be  expected.  One  should  not  complain  where  the  end  prom 
ises  so  much.  These,  I  suppose,  are  the  first  pains  which  a 
man  is  expected  to  take  in  getting  on  in  the  world  —  the  pains 
of  immortality,  the  condition  of  greatness  —  a  suffering  in  the 
flesh  for  the  ambitious  workings  of  the  spirit,  which  should 
teach  a  man,  among  other  lessons,  to  value  the  glory,  when 
won,  which  he  purchases  at  so  much  cost.  Well,  it  is  but  a 
skin-deep  suffering,  after  all,  and  there  is  some  consolation  in 
knowing,  you  limping  rascal,  that  I  can  make  you  share  it.  My 
spurring  shall  equal  your  scalding,  or  there  never  yet  went  two 
words  to  a  bargain." 

While  the  actor  communed  after  this  manner  with  his  uneasy 
steed,  Harry  Vernon,  better  mounted,  was  making  his  forward 
way  with  a  speed  rather  greater  than  his  wont,  as  it  was  his 
object  to  make  up  for  the  time  lost  in  waiting  upon  Horsey 's 
operations  at  the  hut  of  Yarbers,  and,  subsequently,  in  that 
which  had  been  consumed  in  their  parting.  He  had  ridden 
probably  an  hour  after  that  event,  and  the  motion  of  his  horse 
had  been  suffered  to  relax  into  that  ordinary  walking  trot  to 
which  most  horses  on  long  travel  naturally  incline.  The 
thoughts  of  the  rider,  busied  with  other  subjects,  were  now  ab 
stracted  from  the  movements  of  his  steed,  and  he  was  gradua/v 
becoming  indifferent  to,  and  unobservant  of,  surrounding  objects, 
when  he  was  brought  to  his  senses  by  the  sudden  and  fast  tramp 
ling  of  a  horse's  feet  behind  him. 

Looking   round,    what    was   his   surprise    to   behold   Edward 


RIFLE    PRACTICE.  101 

Mabry,  the  lover  of  Mary  Stinson,  in  the  person  of  his  pursnei 
Vernon  drew  up  and  awaited  him — -readily  guessing  the  pur 
pose  of  his  pursuit,  and  really  glad  that  Horsey  had  taken  an 
other  course,  and  got  so  greatly  the  start  of  one  whose  desper 
ate  hostility  was  apparent  in  eveiy  glance  of  his  eye,  and  in 
every  motion  of  his  malignant  and  now  wretched  countenance. 

The  tokens  of  the  combat  of  the  preceding  night  were  promi 
nently  offensive.  His  eyes  were  so  swollen  that  the  orbs  were 
barely  perceptible,  and  the  sight  must  have  been  barely  suffi 
cient  to  enable  him  to  ride.  This  condition  of  his  face  made 
the  rage  which  appeared  its  leading  expression  look  monstrous 
and  fiendish.  His  lips  were  tremulous  though  closed,  the  veins 
upon  his  forehead  tensely  corded  ;  and  the  skin  around,  affected 
by  the  injuries  done  to  his  eyes,  had  assumed  in  spots,  a  dark, 
dirty  green  color,  which  added  to  the  general  hideousness  of 
his  present  aspect.  He  was  armed  with  a  riile,  which,  perhaps, 
in  the  present  situation  of  his  eyes,  would  be  found  far  less  for 
midable  than  usual. 

Glaring  upon  Vernon  with  an  expression  of  hostility  which 
almost  left  it  doubtful  in  our  hero's  mind  if  he  himself  were  not 
also  the  object  of  his  pursuit,  he  demanded  to  know  what  had 
become  of  his  companion.  His  words  were  few  and  passionate, 
and  the  disrespectful  manner  in  which  he  spoke,  and  the  brutal 
epithets  which  he  applied  at  the  same  time  to  the  person  for 
whom  he  inquired,  had  the  effect  of  producing  a  certain  degree 
of  irritation  in  the  mind  of  Vernon,  which  kept  his  answer  in 
suspense.  The  youth  repeated  his  demand  in  a  style  of  inso 
lence  more  offensive  than  before. 

"  I  have  no  desire  to  quarrel  with  you,"  said  Vernon,  "  but 
still  less  am  I  disposed  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  any  one  who 
makes  them  disrespectfully.  I  will  not  answer  your  question. 
I  will  tell  you  nothing  about  Mr.  Horsey  or  his  movements." 

"  Ha !  then  you  take  his  place.  You  shall  answer  for  him 
yourself,"  cried  the  other,  dropping  his  reins  and  grasping  his 
rifle  in  both  hands.  The  instinctive  and  natural  movement  of 
Vernon  was  to  close  with  him  at  once,  and  thus  defeat  the  con 
templated  employment  of  the  deadly  weapon  with  which  he 
threatened  him.  He  wheeled  his  horse  instantly  beside  that  of 
the  assailant,  and  his  left  hand  grasped  the  weapon  also. 


164  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

"  What  mean  you,  madman  ?  What  would  you  do  ?  '  de 
manded  Vernon,  sternly.  "  But  that  I  pity  you,  your  move 
ment  this  instant  would  have  prompted  me  to  shoot  you  dowc 
like  a  dog.  If  you  are  angry  with  Mr.  Horsey,  that  is  no  busi 
ness  of  mine.  I  am  not  answerable  for  his  conduct  nor  his  ab 
sence." 

"  Then  tell  me  where  he  is,"  replied  the  other  hoarsely,  "  OT 
stand  in  his  shoes." 

"  Neither,  sir.     I  will  give  you  no  assistance  in  your  folly." 

A  scuffle  followed  this  reply.  Mabry  strove  to  back  his  horse 
in  order  that  he  might  employ  his  rifle.  Such  at  least  seemed 
his  object  to  Vernon,. whose  efforts  were  directed  to  defeat  this 
purpose ;  and  suffering  the  other  to  recede,  he  addressed  all  his 
strength  to  obtaining  possession  of  the  weapon,  which  Mabry. 
in  the  sudden  backward  movement  of  his  horse,  was  compelled 
to  yield  up,  or  suffer  himself  to  be  drawn  with  it  between  the 
two  animals.  Furious  at  this  disadvantage  he  leaped  to  the 
ground  and  drawing  a  bowie  knife,  rushed  forward.  But  a  few 
paces  divided  them,  and  the  rapidity  of  his  assailant's  movement 
was  such  that  Vernon  felt  he  could  neither  take  aim,  nor  prepare 
the  weapon  in  time  to  anticipate  his  attack.  With  fhis  convic 
tion  he  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and  drew  him  up  only  after  he 
had  put  a  space  of  fifty  yards  between  them. 

"  Advance  upon  me  a  second  time,  young  man,  and  I  shoot 
you  without  scruple.  You  are  a  madman  to  act  in  this  manner 
What  have  I  done  to  you  ?  Of  what  do  you  complain  ?  Do 
you  think  I  will  answer  your  questions,  or  the  questions  of  any 
body, who  does  not  speak  respectfully?  Do  you  suppose  I  will 
assist  in  guiding  you  to  the  commission  of  murder?  You  are 
mistaken  in  me  no  less  than  in  yourself.  In  a  fair  struggle, 
were  I  so  disposed,  I  should  put  you  down  as  effectually  as 
you  were  put  down  last  night ;  and  were  it  not  that  I  should 
derive  but  little  satisfaction  from  such  aj  victory,  your  insolent 
language  might  have  provoked  me  to  have  done  so  before  this. 
Think  a  little  before  you  move  farther  in  this  business.  13y 
this  time  the  person  you  seek  is  far  beyond  your  reach ;  and  as 
for  me,  you  gain  nothing,  I  assure  you,  by  annoying  me.  I  will 
return  you  your  rifle  if  you  will  promise  me  that  you  will  not 
use  it." 


THE   WRONG    CUSTOMER.  166 

"  I  will  make  no  promise,"  replied  the  other,  leaping  again 
upon  his  steed,  "  \ve  shall  soon  be  at  closer  quarters." 

And  with  these  words,  with  a  fury  even  more  blind  than  l\h 
hurt  vision,  the  madman  was  preparing  to  urge  his  horse  for 
ward  upon  the  speaker,  heedless  of  warning,  and  in  utter  defi 
ance  of  the  lifted  rifle. 

"  1  warn  you  again  —  once,  twice,  thrice,  I  warn  you,"  were 
the  slow,  deliberate  tones  of  VeriiOn's  voice,  as,  dropping  the 
rifle  in  his  left  hand,  he  lifted  the  ranging  sights  before  his  eye, 
"  approach  me,  Mr.  Mabry,  with  bared  weapon,  and  I  will  cer 
tainly  shoot  you." 

"  I  defy  you,  I  dare  you.     Shoot,  and  be  d d  !     I  fear  yen 

not,"  said  the  fellow,  as  he  put  spurs  to  his  horse. 

"  Hold  !"  cried  the  voice  of  one  who  darted  before  his  path, 
emerging  into  the  main  road  from  a  little  Indian  trail  that 
crossed  it  at  nearly  equal  distances  between  the  contending 
parties.  The  interruption  was  seasonable  enough.  Vcrnon 
had  already  cocked  the  rifle,  and  the  approach,  by  ten  steps 
more,  of  his  furious  assailant,  would  have  had  the  effect  of 
drawing  his  fire.  The  entrance  of  the  third  personage  relieved 
him  from  a  dreadful  necessity. 

"Hold,  you,  Ned  Mabry,  you  meal-headed  fellow!  What 
the  deuce  is  it  you're  a-doing?" 

The  abrupt  salutation  arrested  the  rash  onset  of  the  youth, 
and  probably  saved  his  life.  The  stranger  was  a  tall  back 
woodsman,  fully  six  feet  in  height,  and  solid  and  massive  like 
a  tower.  He  rode  a  coal-black  horse  of  proportions  and  strength 
of  corresponding  greatness  with  his  own  —  a  keen,  fire-eyed 
animal,  broad-chested,  strongly  quartered,  slim  in  fetlock,  small 
in  hoof,  long-necked,  narrow-headed,  and  with  a  mane,  which, 
though  plaited  and  divided  on  either  side,  seemed  scarcely  less 
copious  than  that  in  the  full  possession  of  the  one.  The  per 
son  of  his  rider  was  no  less  symmetrical  and  erect  than  it  was 
large  and  powerful.  His  cheeks  were  of  a  fine  sanguine  hue, 
his  eyes  bright,  blue,  and  lively,  denoting  good-nature,  with  an 
arch,  lurking  humor,  that  perhaps  indicated  a  fondness  for  his 
jest  in  defiance  of  the  broken  bones  which  are  sometimes  apt 
to  follow  it.  His  nose  was  finely  Roman,  and  his  forehead 
though  neither  broad  nor  high,  was  yet  full,  suitably  large,  and 


166  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

contributed  to  that  general  expression  of  character,  rather  tliarj 
talents,  which  belonged  to  his  other  features.  He  looked  earn 
estly  for  a  few  minutes  upon  Vernon  while  addressing  Mabry, 
to  whom  he  spoke  in  the  familiar  language  of  an  old  acquaint 
ance. 

"Well,  now  you're  a  pretty  lark  to  serve  me  in  this  way, 
Ned  Mabry.  Didn't  you  promise  me  you  wouldn't  do  anything 
more  with  this  business.  Didn't  you  say  you'd  let  the  stranger 
get  off,  and  say  no  more  about  it;  and  here,  only  two  hom> 
after,  I  find  you,  like  a  cursed  maw-month  that  grows  blind 
when  he  sees  a  worm  wriggle,  here  you're  mad  after  the  bait 
though  there's  a  hook  in  it.  Don't  you  see  the  rifle — you  a'n't 
bullet-proof,  I  reckon  ?" 

"It's  my  own  rifle,  Walter,"  said  the  assailant,  sullenly. 

"  The  d — 1  it  is !"  cried  the  other  with  a  laugh  ;  "  then  it's  a 
sign  I  haven't  come  a  minute  too  soon.  You've  got  another 
warning  of  the  truth  I  told  you.  Look  you,  stranger,"  turning 
to  Vernon,  to  whom  the  sudden  arrival  of  a  third  person,  who 
seemed  an  associate  of  his  enemy,  only  cautioned  to  greater 
watchfulness ;  "  look  you,  stranger,  you  mustn't  take  it  hard 
that  this  mad  fellow  set  upon  you,  seeing  you've  took  his  sweet 
heart  from  him,  and  put  his  two  eyes  in  double-mourning.  It's 
mighty  hard  to  lose  one's  gal  and  get  a  beating  all  in  the  same 
night,  and  I  reckon  there's  a  mighty  few  of  us  that  wouldn't 
be  just  as  mad  as  Ned  Mabry  after  it." 

"  But  I've  done  neither,"  said  Vernon ;  "  I've  neither  beaten 
him,  nor  taken  his  sweetheart  from  him.  I  have  done  him  no 
sort  of  injury,  intentional  or  otherwise ;  and  he  has  no  more 
excuse  to  assail  me  than  he  has  to  assail  the  man  in  the  moon." 

"  How  !  how  the  d — 1's  this,  Ned  ?     Didn't  you  tell  me  ?" 

"  Not  this  one  —  the  other  —  the  man  that  was  travelling  witk 
him," 

"  The  splinters  !  and  so  you  set  upon  the  wrong  man.  Well, 
I  say,  that's  being  owl-blind,  stone-blind,  horse-blind ;  blind  of 
three  eyes,  without  even  a  smeller  to  go  by.  What  the  devil 
made  you  trouble  him  ?" 

This  question  was  soon  answered,  and  the  cause  of  difference 
explained.  The  good-natured  stranger  proceeded  to  patch  up 
the  affair,  and,  if  possible,  reconcile  the  parties.  On  Vernon'f 


ADDITION    TO    THE    DRAMATIS    PERSONS. 

Side  this  was  no  great  difficulty.  The  other,  foiled  on  every 
hand,  baffled  so  far  in  the  pursuit  of  one  who  had  humbled  him 
BO  successfully,  and  suffering  from  his  bruises  of  body  no  less 
than  those  of  mind,  was  just  in  that  state  of  stupid  doggedness 
when  conciliation  was  almost  as  much  thrown  away  upon  him 
as  argument  and  explanation.  More  was  done  by  the  sheer  in 
fluence  of  the  stranger's  wish,  than  by  his  reasoning.  The 
rustic  lover  seemed  to  recognise  in  Wat  or  Walter  Hawlins  — 
for  such  was  the  name  of  the  last-comer  —  a  superior,  before 
whom  he  stood  irresolute  and  dependent.  He  confirmed  the 
promise  made  in  his  behalf,  by  the  latter,  to  Vernon,  that  he 
would  offer  him  no  farther  injury  or  insult;  and,  at  his  solicita 
tion,  he  returned  the  rifle  to  Mabry,  though  not  until  he  had 
pushed  the  flint  from  the  teeth  of  the  cock,  thus  depriving  him 
of  the  power  of  doing  any  immediate  harm  with  the  instrument, 
unless  he  went  better  provided  than  usual.  He  had  performed 
this  movement  with  so  little  effort,  and  so  much  adroitness, 
while  the  lock  of  the  gun  lay  beneath  his  right  hand,  and  on  the 
opposite  side  of  his  horse  to  that  where  the  other  parties  stood, 
that  he  had  escaped  observation  ;  and,  satisfied  with  the  posses 
sion  of  his  weapon,  Mabry  gave  no  glance  to  the  condition  in 
which  it  was  returned  to  him. 

"  And  now,  Ned  Mabry,  go  you  home,  and  be  quiet,"  said  his 
companion.  "  You  promised  me  before  to  do  nothing  in  this 
business,  and  it's  a  dead  weight  on  your  credit  now  that  you 
didn't  keep  your  word.  You  ain't  in  any  condition  now  to  look 
up  your  enemies.  With  them  eyes  you  could  not  see  to  hit  a 
squirrel,  though  he  sat  on  a  bare  stump  grinning  at  you  with  all 
his  grinders ;  and  how  should  you  look,  going  after  a  fellow 
who's  got  his  own  peepers  wide  awake.  Go  back,  I  say,  and 
keep  quiet  till  you  see  me  again.  As  for  this  business  of  Yar- 
bers,  himself,"  continued  the  pacificator,  drawing  his  companion 
away  to  some  little  distance  from  the  place  where  Vernon  stood, 
and  lowering  his  voice  to  a  whisper  —  "  say  nothing  till  you  see 
me.  There's  something  strange  about  it,  and  we've  got  some 
mighty  strange  neighbors.  Don't  whisper  it  to  saint  or  sinner 
till  we  ?an  tell  whether  it's  a  safe  person  that's  to  hear  it,  and 
this  there's  no  telling  jist  at  this  time,  when  the  whole  country 
is  in  a  real  topsy-turvy,  and  strange  men  come  aboit  us  hearing 


168  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

what  they  can,  ami  telling  nothing  in  return.  There's  nothing 
to  do  but  to  keep  quiet,  as  I  tell  you,  and  out  of  harm's  way. 
I  won't  be  gone  longer  than  a  week ;  in  the  meantime,  get  your 
eyes  open  if  you  can,  and  keep  'em  so.  I'll  keep  on  a  while 
with  this  stranger,  and  see  what  I  can  worm  out  of  him.  He 
don't  look  and  behave  like  a  man  who  was  one  of  Yarbers's 
kidney,  and  I've  a  sort  o'  notion  you're  quite  wrong  in  your 
guess  that  they're  in  one  and  the  same  business.  I'll  worm  it 
out  of  him  in  no  time,  I  reckon.  If  he's  got  the  cunning  of  a 
rogue,  I've  got  cunning  enough  to  see  how  deep  it  goes;  and, 
if  he  ain't  a  rogue,  why,  then,  there  will  be  one  more  honest 
i.ian  found  to  help  the  rest." 

Much  more  was  said  ere  they  separated,  though  the  conference 
occupied  but  little  time.  Vernon,  meanwhile,  bade  them  a  cour- 
xeous  "  good-day,"  and  was  about  to  set  forward,  when  the  voice 
of  llawlins  arrested  him. 

"  Stay  a  bit,  stranger,  if  so  be  you  like  company.  I'm  driv 
ing  on  in  the  same  track  with  you  for  a  few  miles  farther,  at 
least ;  and,  if  you're  like  myself,  you'll  agree  that  it's  no  bad 
thing  to  have  somebody  at  your  elbow,  if  it's  only  to  answer 
questions.  When  a  man's  by  himself,  he's  apt  to  think  strange 
things;  and  the  devil's  more  apt  to  be  on  the  lookout  for  a  sin 
gle  traveller  than  when  they  go  in  pairs  to  strengthen  each  other. 
I  am  a  ra'al  joker  when  the  humor  suits,  and  I  can  sing,  too, 
when  the  weather  ain't  against  it,  and  the  frogs  don't  rise  in  the 
throat.  So  you  see — " 

"  Say  no  more,"  said  Vernon ;  "  it  will  please  me  to  have 
your  company." 

"  Spoken  like  a  man,  and  I'll  be  with  you  after  a  word  more 
with  this  unbroken  colt.  Now,  Ned  Mabry,  you  promise  me  to 
give  over  the  chase  of  this  fellow  ?" 

Such  was  the  promise  which  Rawlins  exacted  from  his  com 
panion,  ere  they  separated  —  a  promise  reluctantly  given,  and 
badly  kept ;  since  he  had  scarce  reached  the  cross-roads  in  re 
turning,  ere  his  rage  resumed  full  sway  over  him,  and  he  struck 
into  the  path  which  Horsey  had  taken,  giving  full  rein  to  his 
horse,  in  the  hope  to  make  up  for  that  loss  of  time  in  the  pur 
suit  which  had  been  occasioned  by  the  events  of  the  previous 
hour.  Vernon  was  joined  by  Uawlins,  and  in  a  few  momentB, 


ADDITION   TO    THE   DRAMATIS   PERSONS.  IG'J 

on  the  place  which  they  had  just  occiipied,  stood  the  outlaw 
Saxon,  who  emerged  from  the  woods  on  one  hand,  and  was  im 
mediately  after  joined  by  a  comrade  namad  Jones,  who  came  t« 
the  spot  from  an  opposite  quarter. 

"  I  would  give  something  to  know  what  Mabry  and  Rawlins 
had  to  talk  about  so  long  in  secret,"  said  Saxon.  "  Could  you 
make  out  nothing  ?" 

"  Not  a  syllable,"  said  Jones.  "  His  coming  was  untimely." 
"  Yes ;  but  for  that  we  should  have  lost  one  who  may  become 
an  enemy.  Yarbers,  certainly,  would  have  been  the  gainer ; 
and  we  should  have  had  good  reason  for  tying  the  arms  of  this 
fellow  Vevnon  behind  him.  This,  however,  we  must  do  before 
long." 

"  We  must  use  Judge  Nawls  for  that  business,  I  reckon." 
"  Ay,  none  better,"  said  Saxon ;  "  but  do  you  go  ahead,  and 
keep  on  the  haunches  of  these  fellows.  Hawlins,  I  suppose,  is 
on  his  way  to  the  old  methodist  quarter.  He  and  Vernon 
know  each  other  for  the  first  time,  and  they  will  probably  sop 
!*r«i*.e  at  Brother  Badger's  turn-out.  Do  not  lose  him  from  sight 
T  will  join  you  before  midnight." 

8 


BORDER    REAOT.TBrt. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

f»!3     BEAGLES    IN     FULL    CRY  —  PISTOL-PRACTICE—  AN     ADVEM 
TURK  -  A    RESCUE,    AND    BLOODSHED. 

X 

Tlie  noyse  thereof  cald  forth  that  straunger  knight, 
To  weet  what  dreadfull  thing  was  there  in  hond  ; 
Where  whenas  two  brave  knights  in  bloody  fight, 
With  deadly  rancour  he  enraunged  fond, 
His  sunbroad  shield  about  his  wrest  he  bond, 
And  shining  blade  unsheathed."  —  SPENSER. 


TN  rode  on  with  his  new  companion,  Rawlins  —  whom 
won  discovered  to  be  quite  a  sociable,  good-humored  fellow 
—  with  a  speed  which  was  intended  to  make  up  for  lost  time. 
was  his  desire  to  reach  and   cross  the  ferry  over  the  Chitta- 
Loosa  before  sunset,  in  order  that  he  ring-lit  find  lodgings  on  tl 
opposite  side  at  a  conveniently  early  hour.     But  this  purpose, 
when  expressed,  was  discouraged  by  his  companion. 

"  It  will  be  quite  dark  before  you  can  get  across  the  ferry  - 
which  is  more  a  ferry  and  a  half  than  a  ferry  ;  mighty  bad 
".rossing,  and  a  strange  up  and  down,  in  and  out.  turning  t 
twistin-  contrivance    as  ever  ,you  did   see  —  and  then,  when 
you're  across,  it's  a  chance  if  you  find  any  place  to  stay  at,  that 
can  be  called  a  place  at  all,  under  seven  or  eight  miles. 
you'll  -o  with  me  to   old  Billy  Badger's  to-night  —  he's  only 
two  miles  from  the  ferry  —  you  can  take  an  early  start  in  the 
morning,  and  have  a  whole  day  before  you.     Billy  Badger's  a 
crumpy,  stiff  sort  of  a  person  -a  raal,  true-believing  methodis 
that  preaches  himself,  when  the  parson  don't  come,  and,  tc 
v,-ay  of  thinking,  makes  a  deuced  sight  the  best  prayer  of 
among  them.     He's  rather  strange  in  his  ways,  to  be  sure,  h 
you'll  be  heartily  welcome.     He'll  give  you  a  good  supper,  hi 
you  must  swallow  the  long  grace  that   jjoos  before   it  :   and,  if 


NT    FULL    CRY.  171 

one  happens  to  be  in.ijj.tv  liju^-ry.  ii's  n  grc^t  trvinir  o!  i!;o 
patience.  I've  been  a-bothered  by  it  more  than  once  before, 
but  it's  no  use.  Nothing  can  stop  him  when  he  once  begins ; 
and  I  do  think  if  the  house  was  a-fire,  he'd  sooner  let  it  burn 
awhile  than  cut  the  prayer  off  in  the  middle.  Now,  I'm  used 
to  it  myself,  and  don't  mind  it  so  much ;  but  I  think  it  only 
right,  when  I  ax  a  man  to  another's  house,  that  I  should  tell 
him  what  he's  to  look  for." 

"  A  good  rule,"  said  Vernon ;  "  and  without  saying  whether 
1  will  go  with  you  or  not,  let  me  know  whether  Mr.  Badger  is 
in  the  habit  of  receiving  company." 

"  Sure  he  is ;  he  has  'em  at  all  times  and  of  all  characters. 
Why,  his  house  is  something  of  a  thoroughfare,  you  see ;  being 
so  near  the  ferry,  and  folks  a-tra veiling  jist  like  you,  and  com 
ing  up  late  in  the  day,  are  mighty  apt  to  go  to  old  Billy's  to 
spend  the  night." 

"  But  that  must  give  him  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  if  he  keeps 
no  public  house." 

"Not  a  bit,  or  if  it  does,  he  don't  mind  it  in  consideration  of 
the  good  company,  and  somebody  to  talk  to.  Though  he's  a 
gruff  and  grumpy  sort  of  person,  he's  mighty  fond  of  a  confabu 
lation,  and  so  long  as  you'll  listen,  and  even  if  you  wont  listen, 
he'll  still  talk  on,  exhorting,  as  it  were,  and  mighty  airnest. 
When  he  once  gits  hold  of  the  flesh  and  the  devil,  there's  no 
telling  how  long  he'll  hold  on.  It's  no  trifle  that'll  make  him 
let  go ;  and  you'll  see  the  blood  git  up  into  his  face,  and  the 
veins  grow  big  on  his  forehead,  and  the  foam  will  come  out  and 
stand  in  his  mouth-corners  long  before  he'll  think  you've  had 
enough.  He  never  asks  how  you  like  the  thing,  for  he  always 
concludes  that  he  knows  best  what's  good  for  everybody ;  and 
as  for  disagreeing  with  him,  when  once  you  set  eyes  on  him, 
you'll  see  for  yourself  that  that's  out  of  the  question.  I  tell 
you,  sir,  Mr.  Vernon,  he  looks  like  all  the  Laws  and  the  Proph 
ets  ;  and  he  speaks  as  if  he  stood  on  a  high  place,  and  we 
were  all  put  below  to  listen  to  him." 

"  A  stern  old  man — a  very  judge  in  Israel — from  your  de 
scription." 

"  The  very  thing,  Mr.  Vernon  ;  but  then  he's  really  kind  as 
any  man  alive,  though,  for  that  matter,  he  hain't  the  knack  of 


172  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

showing  it  kindly.  TTo.'ll  he.lp  you  up  fj-nm  the  road  with  the 
look  of  the  same  fellow  that  knocked  you  down  ;  and  bind  up 
your  wounds  with  as  sour  a  face  all  the  while,  as  if  his  own 
bowie-knife  had  made  them.  He'll  talk  to  you  as  if  he  thought 
you  a  rogue,  just  at  the  very  time  when  he's  lending  you  a  cool 
hundred ;  and  when  he's  helping  you  to  the  best  on  his  tablet 
he'll  be  grumbling  something  about  the  indulgences  of  the  flesh, 
and  the  profligacies  of  appetite,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing ;  so, 
unless  you  set  out  to  find  a  bundle  of  contradictions  in  every 
thing  he  does  and  says,  there's  no  telling  how  to  take  him." 

"  I've  met  with  such  a  character  before,"  said  Vernon  ;  "  it 
is  neither  unusual  nor  unnatural,  and  only  indicates  a  predomi 
nating  self-esteem,  that  asserts  its  superiority  by  eccentricities 
of  thought  and  manner.  The  eccentricities  of  men  arise,  mostly, 
from  an  undue  estimate  of  their  own  importance,  which  flatters 
itself  by  the  surprises  it  continually  effects,  by  means  of  novelty 
and  strangeness,  in  the  minds  of  the  observers.  So  long  as 
these  eccentricities  hurt  nobody,  people  are  content  to  laugh  or 
wonder  at  them  ;  when  they  exceed  this  limit,  the  owner  ceases 
to  be  a  fool,  and  is  locked  up  as  a  madman.  Has  this  old  gentle 
man  a  family.'' 

"  He  has  a  son  who  is  nothing  like  him  —  a  sly,  cautious  fel 
low,  that  I  don't  know  whether  to  like  or  dislike  —  he's  neither 
one  thing  nor  t'other,  and,  to  speak  a  truth,  one  reason  against 
my  liking  him  may  be  that  he  don't  seem  to  like  me." 

"  A  good  and  sufficient  reason.  There  are  some  love-verses 
which  maintain  this  philosophy  in  strong  and  proper  language  : — 

44  '"What  care  I  how  fair  she  be. 
If  she  be  not  fair  for  me.' 

Has  the  old  gentleman  no  other  family  t" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  other  with  a  hesitating  tone.  "  He's  got 
a  niece  —  a  mighty  fine  girl,  named  Rachel,  out  of  the  Scrip 
tures ;  the  young  man  his  son  is  named  out  of  the  Scriptures, 
too  —  they  call  him  Gideon  —  though,  I'm  thinking  that  his 
name  is  all  that  he  ever  got  out  of  the  Holy  Book,  or  ever  will 
get.  There's  something  wrong  about  him,  I  reckon." 

"But  Rachel,  there  nothing  wrong  about  her — you  don't 
dislike  Rachel,  do  you,  Mr.  Rawlins?  for,  if  you  do,  I  shall 
begin  to  wonder  why  it  is  you  visit  the  family." 


THE   BEAGLES   IN    FULL    CRY.  178 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Vernon,  you're  a  keen  one.  You  must  be  a  lawyer, 
I'm  thinking.  But  you  say  right,  there's  nothing  wrong  aboul 
Rachel,  and  if  the  truth  is  to  be  told,  I  may  as  well  tell  it  at  once 
—I  do  like  Rachel.  I  think  —  though  I  don't  count  her  so  pretty 
as  some  that  I've  seen  and  could  mention  —  I  think  she  is  about 
the  finest  and  best.  She's  so  sweet-tempered,  and  so  modest 
and  good ;  and  then,  she  has  a  great  deal  more  sense,  and  a 
power  of  Parning,  more  than  I  ever  expect  to  cram  into  this 
bigger  noddle  of  mine.  I  confess  to  you,  Mr.  Vernon,  I  do  like 
Rachel." 

The  frankness  of  the  rustic  lover,  had  already  placed  the 
parties  on  the  most  friendly  footing.  His  confession  increased 
the  respect  which  the  lawyer  had  begun  to  entertain  for  him. 
fie  replied  playfully  : — 

"  And  reasoning,  Mr.  Rawlins,  from  what  you  have  said  of 
Gideon,  I  presume,  one  of  your  best  arguments  for  liking  Rachel 
is  found  in  her  liking  you.  Is  it  not  so  ?  —  you  love  each  other." 

There  is,  perhaps,  nothing  so  likely  to  win  the  heart  of  a 
young  lover,  as  to  seek  his  confidence  on  the  subject  nearest  to 
liis  affections.  The  interest  Ave  betray  in  his  passion  saves  him 
from  the  fear  of  ridicule — an  always  prevalent  fear  with  the 
tribe  of  passionates;  —  and  that  sinking  fullness  of  heart  which 
distinguishes  the  lover,  must  find  some  friendly  bosom  intc 
which  to  pour  its  hopes,  its  fears,  its  tumultuous  and  joyous  ex 
pectancies. 

The  words  of  Vernon  unsealed  the  fountain,  and  took  the 
rtone  from  its  lips.  After  that,  Rawlins  had  no  further  con 
cealments.  He  grasped  the  hand  of  his  companion,  and,  warn 
ing  him  the  while  to  secrecy  —  a  caution  which  was  rather  in 
sisted  upon  by  the  respect  which  he  had  for  the  maiden,  than 
because  of  any  desire  on  his  own  part  to  maintain,  as  a  secret, 
a  fact  Avhich  was  so  full  to  him  of  triumph  as  well  as  joy  —  he 
told  him  that  he  had  bee*i  successful  in  persuading  Rachel  to 
regard  him  as  the  properest  man  in  the  country.  His  court 
ship,  from  the  beginning,  underwent  development  in  all  its 
details,  with  a  more  circumstantial  distinctness  than  even  that 
of  Othello,  though  it  did  not  appear  that  the  affections  of  Rachel 
were  secured  for  her  lover  through  a  like  medium.  The  judg 
ment  of  Rawlins  deferred  to  that  of  the  maiden  of  his  heart. 


174  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

He  studiously  insisted  upon  her  mental  superiority,  and  spoke 
in  the  becoming  language  of  that  humility  which  acknowledges 
the  favor  of  fortune  in  his  conquests,  and  assumes  no  share  of 
the  merit  to  himself. 

'*  I  will  go  with  you  to-night,  Mr.  Rawlins,  and  see  this  lady." 

"Do,  that's  a  friend,  Mr.  Vernon  ;  it  does  me  good  when  a 
man  of  sense  and  education  talks  with  Rachel.  She's  mighty 
sweet-spoken  and  smart ;  has  a  whole  closet-full  of  books ;  and 
sends  to  Natchy  for  more  whenever  she  can  get  a  chance.  Now, 
other  men  would  much  rather  have  a  wife  to  work  and  mend  for 
them,  and  would  count  it  mighty  idle  to  see  'em  poking  over 
books;  but  I'm  not  that  sort  of  man.  I'd  want  my  wife  to  talk 
respectably,  jist  the  same  as  if  she  lived  in  a  big  city  like  Or 
leans  ;  for  if  a  man's  poor  as  Job's  turkey  to-day,  it's  no  reason 
he  should  be  poor  to-morrow.  In  this  country,  a  man  may  git 
rich  in  double  quick  time,  if  he's  only  constant  and  sober  to  his 
business;  and  if  the  Lord  spares  me,  Mr.  Vernon.  I'm  bent  on 
making  my  children  men  of  substance  and  education.  If  I  had 
no  Taming  myself — and,  like  most  of  our  people,  seven  months 
time  would  cover  every  hour  of  schooling  I  ever  had, — I  know 
the  good  of  Taming,  and  my  children  will  have  enough  to  do 
them  good,  whether  I  live  or  die,  if  so  be  their  mother's  able  to 
give  it  them ;  and  I'd  sooner  have  my  wife  teaching  her  chil 
dren  to  read  and  write,  than  darning  stockings,  or  mending 
breeches,  or  doing  any  of  that  sort  of  business,  which  a  nigger 
girl  can  do  that  never  had  any  education  at  all." 

It  amused  Vernon  to  hear  his  companion  counting  his  chickens 
with  so  much  complacency,  and  making  his  arrangements  how 
to  train  them,  even  before  they  were  hatched.  He  smiled  with 
an  expression  of  that  humor  upon  his  countenance  which  formed 
no  small  portion  of  his  character. 

"  Of  course,  Mr.  Rawlins,  you  have  consulted  with  Rachel  on 
this  subject ;  you  have  told  her  your  plans  at  length." 

"  To  be  sure  I  have  Do  you  think  I'd  keep  such  a  matter 
from  her  ?  No,  no,  sir,  as  God's  my  judge  there  ain't  anything 
in  my  bosom  that  I've  kept  from  her  ears,  since  that  moment 
when  she  said  'yes'  to  my  asking.  It  was  only  last  week  —  I 
go  to  see  her  about  once  a-week,  Mr.  Vernon  —  it  was  only  last 
week  I  tried  to  get  her  to  say,  if  she  had  a  son,  which  she 


THE   BEAGLES   IN    FULL   CRY.  176 

irould  like  best  to  have  him,  a  lawyer  or  a  doctor ;  and  it  was 
a  great  worry  to  me  to  get  her  to  talk  about  the  matter  at  all, 
and  what  she  did  say  was  as  much  as  to  say,  '  Have  your  own 
way  about  it,'  for  it  came  to  as  little.  Now,  Mr.  Vernon,  I 
know  that  there's  nothing  so  troublesome  in  families  as  a  differ 
ence  between  man  and  wife  about  these  things,  and  I  wanted 
to  put  the  matter  out  of  all  danger  of  dispute.  It  was  strange 
to  me  that  Rachel,  who  can  talk  so  well  about  most  matters, 
and  give  me  so  much  good  advice  when  I  want  it,  shouldn't  be 
willing  to  tell  me  her  real  notions." 

•'  Perhaps  she  thought  there  was  time  enough  a  year  or  two 
hence  for  the  consideration  of  the  subject.  You,  on  the  other 
hand,  I  perceive,  are  for  taking  time  by  the  forelock.  You 
prefer  being  quick  to  being  slow.  She,  too,  might  have  been 
thinking  of  girl-children,  only ;  who,  of  course,  can  neither  be 
doctors  nor  lawyers." 

"Well,  that's  true,  there  may  be  something  in  that,  Mr. 
Vernon,  but  then,  again,  you  know  it's  an  even  chance  that  we 
should  have  boys  as  well  as  girls.  I  was  going  to  tell  her  that, 
but  she  broke  off  suddenly,  because  she  thought  she  heard  the 
old  man  calling  her  from  the  house." 

The  unsophisticated  lover  impressed  Vernon  favorably  as 
regarded  both  himself  and  mistress,  by  the  naturalness  with 
which  he  detailed  his  own  secret  thoughts  and  desires,  and  the 
manners  of  the  damsel.  That  Rachel  was  more  thoughtful 
than  her  lover,  and  quite  as  good  a  tactician,  he  had  no  sort  of 
doubt  from  the  chapter  of  developments  which  had  been  made 
by  the  former.  How  long  Rawlins  would  have  gone  on  in  a 
narrative  which  was  too  pleasing  to  his  heart  and  fancies  to 
suffer  the  obtrusion  of  other  thoughts  and  objects  on  his  mind, 
it  would  be  difficult  to  say.  He  was  checked  by  an  abrupt  in 
quiry  of  Vernon,  and  brought  back  to  the  more  earthly  objects 
of  humanity,  with  some  slowness  and  a  little  reluctance. 

"Hear  you  those  dogs?  there  are  several  beagles  —  do  you 
hunt  much  in  this  neighborhood,  Mr.  Rawlins  ?" 

"  Beagles  !     I  don't  hear  any,  Mr.  Vernon." 

"  I  have  heard  them  for  the  last  twenty  minutes ;  but  the 
truth  is,  Mr.  Rawlins,  when  a  mail's  in  love  he  hears  nothing 
and  sees  little  that  does  not  concern  his  mistress.  This  ii 


176  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

your  condition.  For  the  last  half  hour  we  have  talked  of  noih 
ing  else,  and  you  have  heard  nothing  that  did  not  call  for  an 
answer  about  her.  Now  I  have  heard  the  baying  of  these  bea 
gles  beside  and  before  us,  as  if  scattered,  and  crossing  on  false 
scents.  Who  keeps  a  pack  about  here  ?" 

"A  pack  of  beagles!  I  don't  think  there's  such  a  thing  in 
the  county,  Mr.  Vernon.  There's  one  or  two  here  and  there  in 
different  places  —  there's  some  two  or  three  I  know  of,  but  no 
more.  John  Herne  —  he's  something  of  a  hunter,  and  has  sev 
eral  dogs,  but  only  one  hound,  and  that's  but  a  poor  affair. 
Macartney,  the  Scotchman,  that  lives  on  the  edge  of  Atala,  he 
has  one,  but  he  don't  hunt.  Ned  Mabry,  the  chap  that  would 
have  mauled  you  this  morning,  if  you  had  let  him,  he  has  two, 
and  both  of  them  fine  pups,  but  he's  not  the  man  to  think  of 
deer-hunting  to-day.  Besides  him,  I  can't  call  to  mind  anothei 
man  in  our  neighborhood  that  keeps  a  beagle." 

"  That  is  strange,  for  I  have  certainly  heard  several  at  dif 
ferent  points  of  the  compass  within  this  hour.  Hark !  Hear 
you  not  now  ?" 

"  Yes,  that's  a  beagle,  but  it  sounds  mighty  faint,  and  may 
be,  after  all,  from  a  tongue  that  you  never  hear  close,  and  the 
ciog  that  own's  it  ain't  so  easy  to  be  seen.  You  know  there's  a 
story  in  these  parts  of  a  ghost-dog  that  haunts  the  woods  about 
the  Big  Black ;  they  call  him  the  white  dog  of  Chitta-Loosa, 
and  old  folks  tell  strange  things  about  him  ;  how  he  let  his  mas- 
tei  be  murdered,  and  now  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  run  through 
the  woods  constantly  looking  after  him.  He  is  said  to  keep  in 
the  swamp  of  the  Big  Black,  and  you  hear  him  always  just  as 
evening  is  coming  on,  as  if  he  was  calling  to  his  master,  and 
was  making  moan  that  another  night  was  near  at  hand,  and  lie 
hadn't  yet  found  him.  There's  a-many  sounds  in  these  woods, 
and  sights  too,  I've  heard  them  tell  of,  that  you'll  hear  v  ithout 
knowing  where  they  come  from,  or  who  they  belong  to.  l'\ •••- 
pie  about  here  don't  mind  them  much  now,  since  they've  got  a 
little  used  to  them ;  but  when  I  first  came  on  the  Big  Black,  it 
made  my  heart  beat  mighty  quick,  I  tell  you,  and  made  me 
clap  long  spurs  to  my  horse,  to  hear  them ,  and  even  now,  I 
catch  myself  saying  my  prayers,  without  knowing  when  I  be 
gin,  to  find  myself  belated  on  the  edge  of  the  swamp,  nobodj 


THE   BEAGLES   IN    FULL   CRY.  177 

with  me,  and  on  a  sudden  hear  a  whisper  close  at  my  eibow; 
and  may  be  a  laugh  and  a  clapping  of  the  hands  behind  me." 

"  But  why  should  you  think 'this  anything  more  than  ordi 
nary  ?  This  whispering,  and  laughing,  and  clapping — nay, 
this  baying  of  dogs  —  may  all  be  the  work  of  men." 

"No  men,  no  men, Mr.  Vernon  !  —  I'm  a  man  myself,  and  can 
answer  that.  I'm  a  stout  man,  sound  in  wind  and  limb,  six 
feet  in  stocking  foot,  and  able  to  swing  a  cotton  bag,  and  that's 
a-much  for  anybody  to  do.  Besides,  I'm  not  afraid  of  any  fel 
low  that  ever  I  saw  yet,  that  had  no  better  help  than  flesh  and 
blood,  broad  shoulders,  and  solid  muscle,  can  give  him ;  and 
when  I've  turned  and  challenged  them  that  made  these  noises, 
and  put  into  the  swamps  after  them  —  and  I've  a  keen  nose, 
and  a  quick  eye  among  the  bushes,  Mr.  Vernon  —  and  after  all 
could  find  nothing  to  lay  a  finger  on,  why,  then  it  was  time  to 
think  of  saying  one's  prayers,  and  using  one's  spurs.  Now, 
don't  you  go  to  think  from  what  I'm  saying  that  I'm  easily 
frightened  with  ghosts  and  images.  I'm  frightened  at  nothing 
I  can  see  and  feel ;  but  when  a  body  can  neither  see  nor  feel 
—  when  eyes  and  hands  fail,  what's  to  be  done?  Am  I  to 
stand  then,  waiting  what's  to  come  ?  No,  no,  I'm  clear  for 
clean  heels  without  waiting  for  orders.  I  asked  Rachel  if  it 
was  right  for  me  to  run  in  such  cases,  and  she  clearly  agreed  it 
was.  Well,  when  our  counts  come  to  the  same  ending,  there's 
nothing  more  to  be  said  about  it,  and  run's  the  word  for  me. 
A  ghost  that  I  can  see,  or  a  man  that  I  can  feel,  will  never 
make  me  stir  my  ankles  faster  than  I  choose  ;  but  I  don't  think 
it's  any  shame  to  use  one's  trotters  when  he  can  make  no  use 
of  his  other  limbs." 

"  Give  your  horse  a  light  spur  now,  Mr.  Rawlins,"  said  Ver 
non,  gravely,  "  and  let  us  ride  on  a  little  faster.  These  beagles 
seem  to  increase  in  number,  and  I  can  distinguish  the  baying 
of  no  less  than  three  from  several  quarters.  If  there  be  so  few 
in  the  county  as  you  assert,  then  are  these  noises  the  more  mys 
terious,  and  they  must  have  some  object  Now,  as  I  am  one  of 
those  who  will  not  easily  believe  in  your  white  dog  of  the 
Chitta-Loosa,  or  in  the  ghost  of  a  dog  at  all,  I  am  persuaded 
that  what  we  hear  are  the  voices  of  real  flesh  and  blood  beings, 

8* 


178  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

whether  of  hounds  or  men.  If  they  are  the  voices  of  men,  thej 
imitate  well,  and  must  have  some  leading  object  for  acquiring 
the  practice ;  if  they  are  those  of  beagles,  then  may  we  get  a 
glimpse  of  a  close  chase,  and,  perhaps,  join  in  a  pursuit,  which 
I  am  very  fond  of.  A  pistol-bullet  may  bring  down  a  deer  at 
a  small  distance,  and  I  have  known  a  man  get  a  shot  near 
enough  to  enable  him  to  do  business  with  a  pistol.  I  will  have 
mine  in  readiness." 

"  I  will  not  fail  you,  Mr.  Vernon,"  said  the  other,  in  sup 
pressed  accents,  and  bringing  his  horse  more  closely  to  the  side 
of  his  companion.  "  It's  jist  as  well  to  have  your  pistols  ready 
if  we  are  to  seek  for  these  hounds  you  speak  of,  for,  to  tell  you 
a  truth,  it  has  been  for  a  long  time  my  notion  that  there  were 
men  at  the  bottom  of  some  of  these  noises  of  dogs  ;  not  that  there 
are  not  other  noises  of  the  woods  that  could  never  have  been 
made  by  any  man  —  that  I'll  swear  for  —  and  if  you  know'd 
half  as  much  of  our  country  and  the  swamps  as  I  do,  you'd  be 
for  thinking  like  myself.  I  could  tell  you  of  the  strangest 
things — " 

"Not  now  !  not  now!"  exclaimed  Vernon,  impatiently,  "but 
get  your  pistols  out,  my  good  fellow  ;  it  may  be  a  word  and  a 
blow  with  us.  I  hear  one  sound  responding  to  another,  and  the 
last  did  not  seem  more  than  a  short  hundred  yards  distant,  in 
that  thick  branch.  Let  us  ride  apart;  a  rifle's  sight  could  cover 
us  both." 

Speaking  thus,  Vernon  spurred  his  horse  forward  in  a  smart 
canter,  while  Rawlins,  obeying  his  suggestion,  prepared  his 
weapons,  and  followed  him  at  a  horse's  length  behind.  They  had 
scarcely  increased  their  motion,  when  a.  sudden  clamor  reached 
their  ears  in  front ;  a  hoarse  summons,  the  voice  of  a  man  in 
anger,  mingled  with  lower  tones,  as  if  in  expostulation.  These 
were  followed  by  a  shriek  —  a  repeated  shriek,  and  the  accents 
of  a  woman  —  of  woman  in  distress!  This  put  a  life  into  the 
limbs,  and  a  fire  into  the  hearts  of  the  two  young  men,  which 
gave  them  no  time  for  reflection,  and  left  them  in  no  doubt  as 
to  the  course  which  they  should  take,  and  the  duty  which  lay 
before  them. 

"Lord  God!"  was  the  somewhat  irreverent  exclamation  of 
Rawlins,  «  Lord  God !  Mr.  Vernon,  if  it  should  be  Rachel  I" 


PISTOL   PRACTICE AN    ADVENTURE.  179 

"  It  is  a  woman,  Mr.  Rawlins ! — follow  me  close  if  you  be  a 
man.  This  is  no  time  to  loiter." 

"  You  won't  find  me  backward,  by  the  powers  !  I'm  at  you, 
and  after  you.  There's  no  scare  in  Wat  Rawlins  at  the  push. 
Lord  help  us  !  I'm  afeard  it's  Rachel.  She  loves  to  walk  in  the 
woods  so,  every  afternoon.  Git  up,  you  lazy  b — h,  or  I'll  knife 
your  quarters !" 

The  last  speech,  warm  from  the  blood,  and  breaking  out  in 
defiance  of  all  restraint,  was  addressed  to  his  horse,  which,  in 
his  anger,  it  will  be  seen  that  he  made  feminine.  The  animal, 
though  fleet,  and  now  doing  his  best,  yet  lacked  the  speed  of 
Vernon's,  and  the  distance,  small  at  first,  was  increasing  fast 
between  them.  The  fear  that  another  should  do  for  the  safety 
of  his  sweetheart  that  which  he  alone  aimed  to  accomplish,  was 
wormwood  to  his  spirit ;  and  his  apostrophe  to  his  steed  was 
coupled  with  the  driving  and  constant  application  of  the  spur, 
until  the  flanks  of  the  generous  animal  soon  grew  red  undei 
the  infliction.  The  shrieks  were  renewed  —  fast,  sharp,  implor 
ing —  terminating,  at  length,  in  a  long,  piercing  scream,  which 
grew  feeble,  at  last,  as  if  from  exhaustion ;  and  when  it  closed, 
the  thrilling  words  of  Vernon,  as  he  looked  behind,  and  cried  to 
Rawlins  to  follow,  sent  a  creeping  chill  of  terror  to  the  heart 
of  the  rustic. 

"  Push,  push,  or  we  shall  be  too  late !" 

"  I'm  here — I'm  close  !  This  d d  beast !  I  hope  it  ain't 

Rachel !  Get  on,  you  brute  ! — Everything  stands  in  the  way  ; 
the  trees,  and  bushes,  and  I  never  saw  the  creature  so  dull 
before.  Get  up,  you  clodhopping  beast,  or  I'll  kill  you,  by  all 
that's  certain  !  I've  always  told  Rachel  about  walking  out  so 
far,  but  she  wouldn't  mind  me,  and  said  there  was  no  danger ; 
but  I  knew  there  was  danger,  and  I  said  so.  But  these  women 
—  they  won't  mind  anything — they're  so  ohstinate  if  they're 
a  little  smart;  and  so  —  d — n  the  b — h,  she'll  stop  full  short 
before  long,  and  want  to  take  a  roll  in  the  road." 

There  was  no  good  reason  to  justify  this  last  apprehension 
of  the  excited  woodman.  The  animal  was  covering  ground 
with  a  rapidity  which  might  have  done  some  credit  to  Turpin's 
n:  ivo.  But  a  few  seconds  had  passed  since  the  first  alarm,  and 
nothing  but  the  impatience  and  the  special  apprehensions  which 


180  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

had  seized  him  on  a  sudden,  in  regard  to  the  woman  who  was 
dearest  to  his  heart,  could  have  so  utterly  confounded  his  con 
sciousness  and  judgment  on  all  other  subjects. 

To  be  passed  and  left  behind  by  the  young  lawyer  — 
the  citizen  —  one  of  a  class  for  whom  the  forest-born  of  our 
country  are  very  apt  to  entertain  a  very  wholesome  contempt 
as  respects  the  exercise  of  all  those  qualities  which  require 
personal  strength  and  agility,  and  more  especially,  in  the  man 
agement  of  a  horse  —  also  added  to  his  affliction;  which,  how 
ever,  was  not  destined  to  endure  long. 

Vernon  had  already  entered  upon  the  scene  of  action.  The 
roads  crossed  —  a  large  area  was  formed  by  the  contact  of  the 
two  paths  —  and  here  the  strife  was  in  progress,  and  hence  the 
clamor. 

A  single  glance  at  the  objects  before  him.  gave  Vernon  a 
correct  notion  of  the  affair.  A  travelling  carriage  crossed  the 
road,  the  horses  being  checked  and  held  by  a  man  whose  muf 
fled  face,  cap  drawn  over  his  eyes,  coarse  garments,  rude  man 
ner,  not  to  speak  of  the  pistol  in  his  grasp,  at  once  declared 
L  him  to  be  a  ruffian  and  an  assailant.  An  old  man,  the  proprie 
tor  of  the  vehicle,  whose  white  locks  and  bald  head  were  un 
covered  and  exposed,  lay  on  the  ground  beneath  the  knee  of 
another  ruffian,  while  a  third  was  busied  in  rifling  the  carriage 
of  its  contents.  T\vo  females,  one  a  tall  maiden  of  seventeen 
or  thereabouts,  the  other  a  child  of  twelve,  were  on  their  knees 
to  the  villain  who  held  the  old  man  down,  imploring,  seemingly, 
for  mercy ;  the  younger  of  the  two,  clinging  to  the  arm  of  the 
assailant,  seeking  with  a  childish  pertinacity,  and  in  utter 
ignorance  of  any  danger  to  herself,  to  push  him  from  his  posi 
tion. 

The  screams  which  had  alarmed  the  travellers  arose  from 
these  ;  and  they  were  continued  by  the  younger  of  the  damsels 
long  after  the  elder  had  deemed  it  —  the  first  alarm  being  over 
—  an  idle  mode  of  remedying  the  misfortune,  for  the  cure  of 
v,  hich  she  probably  meditated  other  means.  Perhaps  there 
were  other  apprehensions  of  womanhood  more  dreadful  to  the 
pure,  heart,  which  made  her  fearful  to  offend  the  insolence  of 
those  to  whom  neither  herself  nor  parent — for  such  was  the 
old  man  beneath  the  grasp  of  the  ruffian — could  oppose  any 


PISTOL    PRACTICE — AN    ADVENTURE.  181 

powers  of  defence.  Her  efforts  were  those  of  prayer,  expostu 
lation  and  entreaty,  until  the  approach  of  Vernon,  whom  sh* 
first  beheld,  suggested  new  hopes  of  rescue ;  and  then  her 
screams  were  joined  to  those  of  her  younger  sister,  and  gave  a 
new  impulse  to  the  movements  of  our  hero  and  his  companion 
who  followed  close  upon  his  heels. 

There  was  but  little  time  for  reflection — none  for  hesitation, 
and  the  mood  and  character  of  Vernon  were  such  as  to  require 
neither.  To  assail  the  assailants,  to  rescue  the  victims,  was  an 
instinct  that  sent  him  the  nearest  way  to  work  ;  and  coming,  as 
he  did,  somewhat  suddenly  upon  the  robbers,  he  was  able  to 
effect  that  which,  in  a  state  of  greater  preparation  on  their 
part,  it  would  have  been  fatal  for  him  even  to  attempt. 

Their  own  interest  in  the  prize,  and  the  clamors  of  the  }'oung 
women,  had  kept  them  from  hearing  the  tread  of  the  approach 
ing  horsemen  ;  and  as  they  came  into  the  cross-roads  from  the 
opposite  track,  they  were  totally  unseen  until  within  thirty 
yards  of  the  party.  It  was  then  too  late  to  take  any  of  those 
precautions  by  which  nothing  would  have  been  more  easy  than 
to  have  shot  them  down  at  their  approach,  without  risking  an 
exchange  of  bullets. 

As  it  was,  a  single  bay  of  the  beagle  —  their  accustomed 
signal  —  was  the  only  warning  which  the  more  busy  robbers 
received  from  the  companion  who  held  the  horses,  and  who 
occupied,  with  them  and  the  carriage,  the  upper  part  of  the  road. 
The  ruffian  who  bestrid  the  prostrate  gentleman  turned  about 
at  the  signal,  only  to  receive  the  bullet  of  Vernon,  unerringly 
aimed  at  his  head.  He  fell  prostrate  upon  the  body  of  the  old 
man,  and  his  blood  and  brains  covered  his  face  and  garments. 
In  the  next  moment,  the  robber  in  possession  of  the  carriage 
fired  at  Vernon,  and  was  about  to  leap  with  a  second  pistol 
upon  him,  when  the  appearance  of  Rawlins,  who  made  his 
entree  with  a  shout  which  might  have  done  credit  to  the  lungs 
of  Stentor,  determined  the  assailant  to  trust  his  heels  rather 
than  his  weapon ;  and  without  giving  a  look  to  his  comrade,  he 
darted  into  the  opposite  woods,  leaving  the  carriage  between 
himself  and  his  foes.  He  who  held  the  horses,  kept  his  ground 
until  Rawlins  had  approached  him  within  a  few  paces,  when, 
lifting  his  weapon  with  as  deliberate  an  aim  as  the  circum- 


182  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

stances  of  his  position  would  allow,  ho  fired,  but  ineffectually 
at  the  sturdy  woodman. 

Could  the  latter  have  seen  the  bitter,  nay,  venomous  expres 
sion  of  face  which  the  fellow  gave  him  ere  he  shot,  he  would 
have  congratulated  himself,  indeed,  that  it  was  not  Rachel  who 
had  fallen  into  his  hands. 

Vernon  was  the  first  to  pursue  the  escaping  ruffians,  but  he 
had  scarcely  entered  the  wood  ere  he  felt  himself  growing 
sick  and  faint;  and  then,  for  the  first  time,  he  found  himself 
wounded  in  the  thigh.  He  returned  to  the  scene  of  action,  and 
with  difficulty  alighted  from  his  horse.  The  old  man  and  his 
daughters,  whom  he  had  rescued,  came  about  him  to  acknowl 
edge  and  thank  him  for  his  services ;  but  exhaustion,  from  loss 
of  blood,  now  overcame  him,  and  he  sunk  to  the  ground  with  a 
dim  consciousness  while  he  was  falling,  that  the  old  man  was 
the  very  person  whom  he  sought  —  the  very  William  Maitland 
who  had  defrauded  the  bank  and  involved  Carter,  to  the  loss 
of  so  many  thousands. 

But  this  impression  soon  gave  place  to  another,  and  it  seemed 
to  the  swooning  youth  that  the  features  of  the  man  were  at 
once  absorbed  in  those  of  a  lovely  virgin  —  such  a  vision  as 
had  filled  his  dreaming  fancy  the  night  he  slept  at  the  hovel  of 
Mrs.  Yarbers; — a  form  of  chiselled  symmetry,  and  a  face,  of 
the  exquisite  beauty  of  which,  the  soul,  alone,  could  feel  the 
perfection  and  the  charm,  in  those  vague  and  spiritual  imagin 
ings  which  come  to  the  youthful  heart  when  it  first  dreams  oi 
love — which  come  to  it  but  once,  and  is  believed  by  it  for  ever 


THE    FUGITIVE    FATHER THK    DAUGHTER 


CHAPTER   XVI 

THE    FUGITIVE  FATHER  —  THE  DAUGHTER EVENTS  GRADtAJLl   i 

DEVELOP  —  GLIMPSES    BEYOND 

"Why  do  you  strive  so —  whither  would  you  fly 
You  can  not  wrest  yourself  away  from  care, 
You  may  from  counsel ;  you  may  shift  your  place, 
But  not  your  person;  and  another  clime 
Makes  you  no  other"  FLETCHER. 

THE  woodman  who  had  continued  the  pursuit  of  the  ruffians 
without  being  at  all  apprized  of  the  malicious  aim  of  one  of 
them  upon  him,  from  which  he  had  been  so  fortunate  as  to 
escape,  soon  found  his  efforts  unavailing  to  overtake  them. 
They  had  made  their  way  into  a  canebrake  immediately  con 
tiguous,  in  whose  thick,  fostering  glooms  and  secret  abodes, 
they  could  easily  defy  and  baffle  the  search  of  any  hundred 
men.  Ignorant  of  the  hurt  of  Vernon,  whom  he  had  seen 
enter  the  forest  in  pursuit,  like  himself,  he  shook  his  hand  in 
anger  at  the  sheltering  recesses  in  which  the  robbers  were  lost 
from  sight,  and  returned  toward  the  scene  of  action,  with  a 
degree  of  composure,  which  seemed  to  regard  the  fatigue  of  his 
horse  as  superior  to  all  other  considerations. 

His  astonishment  and  concern,  when  he  discovered  the  insen 
sible  condition  of  his  companion,  was  worthy  of  a  much  longer 
acquaintance,  and  a  more  social  and  equal  relationship  than 
had  existed  between  them.  A  few  moments  sufficed  to  con 
vince  him  that  his  friend  was  not  dead,  nor,  perhaps,  badly 
injured ;  and  a  few  more  enabled  him  to  kick  the  dead  robber 
with  a  quiet  conviction  that  he  could  do  no  more  hurt.  The 
features  -\f  the  ruffian  he  inspected  carefully ;  but  if  he  had 
any  knowledge  of  them  before,  he  kept  the  matter  to  himself, 
*nd  having  emptied  the  pockets  of  all  that  they  contained  of 


184  BORDER    IJKAGLK3. 

value,  and  possessed  himself  of  tlie  pistols  with  which  the  fel 
low  had  been  armed,  but  which  the  true  and  prompt  shot  of 
Vernon  had  prevented  him  from  using,  he  left  the  carcass  in 
the  highway,  with  probably  some  such  motive  as  that  of  tlie 
woodman  when  he  kills  a  snake  —  namely,  the  start  and  mo 
mentary  terror  which  such  a  spectacle  will  provoke  in  the 
spectator. 

This  business  was  the  work  of  a  few  moments  only ;  and  he 
now  addressed  himself  seriously  to  the  task  of  assisting  his 
wounded  companion,  and  directing  the  further  movements  of  the 
party,  all  the  members  of  which  were  laboring  under  more  or 
less  excitement  and  apprehension.  The  whole  scene  was  over 
in  a  few  minutes,  but  the  full  pressure  of  its  terrors  and  dangers 
had  not  passed  entirely  away.  The  old-  gentleman,  who  had 
been  rescued,  was  even  then  busy  in  cleansing  his  face  and 
bosom,  as  well  as  he  might,  from  the  blood  and  brains  of  the 
slain  robber  which  had  spurted  over  them.  He  was  a  fine- 
looking  man,  of  very  venerable  aspect ;  but  there  was  an  incer 
titude  in  his  looks,  and  a  tremulousness  of  limb  in  his  move 
ments,  which  seemed  to  the  mind  of  the  woodman  strangely  in 
consistent  with  the  fine,  manly  mould  in  which  nature  had  cast 
his  frame.  It  was  also  apparent  to  our  forester  that  there  was 
a  fidgety  uneasiness  in  his  manner,  which  denoted  apprehen 
sions  no  less  active  at  the  moment  of  his  rescue  and  seeming 
safety,  than  when  he  lay  under  the  weapon  of  the  robber.  He 
spoke  confusedly,  yet  not  with  rapidity ;  checked  and  inter 
rupted  himself  repeatedly ;  caught  up  his  speech  before  he  had 
completed  his  sentences ;  corrected,  or  strove  to  correct  his  ex 
pression  ;  and  increased  his  confusion,  as  folks  are  very  apt  tc 
do,  by  anticipating  it.  His  determination  on  little  matters 
seemed  to  undergo  alteration  quite  as  often  as  his  speech ;  and 
in  all  that  he  said  and  did,  he  exhibited  to  the  countryman, 
who  was  not  entirely  obtuse,  that  purposeless,  imbecile  charac 
ter,  which  is  conscious  of  much  to  be  done,  yet  is  capable  of 
nothing,  and  despairs  even  while  it  undertakes,  and  falters  be 
fore  fatigue. 

Yet,  so  far  as  the  ordinary  circumstances  are  involved,  which 
produce  fear  in  the  minds  of  men,  the  stranger  had  shown  him 
self  hardy  enough.  It  is  true,  he  did  not  offer  resistance  to  the 


THE    FUGITIVE    PATHEIl THE    DAUGHTER.  185 

robbers,  though  armed ;  but  this  arose  as  well  from  the  manner 
in  which  he  had  been  surprised  by  them,  as  from  a  proper  con- 
viction  that  he  could  not  hope  to  resist  them  with  any  chance 
of  success ;  and  might,  by  doing  so,  have  provoked  their  ill- 
treatment  of  his  daughters,  for  whose  safety  he  had  shown  all 
the  solicitude  of  a  father.  He  had  not  betrayed  so  much  alarm 
for  his  own  safety,  while  actually  beneath  the  body  of  his 
assailant,  as  he  did  now,  speaking  of  the  event  to  the  sturdy 
woodman,  by  whose  assistance,  in  part,  his  rescue  had  been 
achieved.  Indeed,  his  timidity,  uneasiness,  and  downcast  looks 
while  he  spoke,  surprised  the  latter  quite  as  much  as  they  vexed 
him ;  and  his  words  were  spoken  with  the  view  to  reassuring 
the  courage  which  he  could  not  but  think  —  and  this  too  with 
some  feelings  of  contempt  —  had  been  quite  too  much  cast 
down  by  the  strife  through  which  it  had  just  gone. 

"  There's  no  sort  of  danger  now,  old  gentleman,  while  we're 
so  strong  around  you.  It  won't  be  any  two  robbers  of  the 
Chitta-Loosa  that'll  venture  to  lay  thumb  and  fingers  on  the 
nose  of  Wat  Rawlins,  and  he  with  his  eyes  open.  So,  since 
you're  safe  now,  and  don't  seem  to  have  lost  anything,  take 
your  seat  in  your  wagon,  while  I  help  Vernon  into  the  bottom 
of  it.  You  must  make  some  room  for  him*,  young  lady,  and 
don't  be  frightened  at  a  little  blood.  It  is  good  blood,  and  spilt 
in  your  own  behalf,  so  you  may  look  on  it  with  a  sort  of  pleas 
ure,  if  you  ain't  too  faint-hearted  —  which  I  don't  think  so  much 
your  case  as  that  of  the  old  gentleman.  He's  mighty  uneasy 
now,  though  for  what  there's  no  telling.  Why  don't  you  mount, 
old  gentleman,  and  put  yourself  in  readiness?" 

In  some  agitation,  the  stranger  turned  to  his  daughter,  and  a 
brief  conversation  was  carried  on  between  the  two  in  whispers. 
The  woodman  remarked  that  the  fine  eye  of  the  maiden  was 
kindled,  her  cheek  flushed,  and  he  could  hear  her  distinctly  ex 
claim,  at  the  conclusion  of  a  long  and  very  earnest  sentence : 
"Do  not  —  do  not  think  of  such  a  thing,  dear  father;  common 
humanity,  alone,  were  there  no  other  reasons,  should  require 
this;  now,  it  is  the  due  —  gratitude — " 

The  rest  of  the  words  were  lost  to  the  listener,  who,  at  the 
same  time,  busied  himself  in  binding  a  handkerchief  around  the 
thigh  of  the  youth,  in  the  hope  to  arrest  the  bleeding. 


186  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

While  thus  engaged,  the  traveller  approached  him,  and  asked 
how  far  they  might  be  at  that  moment  from  the  first  ferry. 

The  question  surprised  the  woodman,  who  looked  up  at  the 
speaker  with  increased  surprise.  With  a  mind  so  utterly  un 
sophisticated  as  his  own,  he  could  conceive  of  no  condition  of 
things  justifying  the  reluctance  of  the  traveller  to  lend  himself 
to  the  work  of  succoring  one  to  whom  he  owed  so  great  a  ser 
vice.  His  wonder,  however,  did  not  extend  to  the  conduct  of 
the  elder  maiden.  She  had  stooped  to  assist  him  in  his  rude 
surgery,  and  had  yielded  the  mantle  from  her  shoulder  to  help 
in  binding  up  the  hurts  of  his  patient.  But  his  eye  spoke  to 
her  father  a  different  language  from  that  which  his  lips  ad 
dressed  to  her.  To  him,  he  looked  the  surprise  he  felt,  and 
something  more.  Scorn  was  mingled  with  his  wonder,  and 
anger  rose  no  less  upon  his  lips  than  upon  his  countenance. 

"  The  ferry  !"  he  exclaimed  —  "  the  ferry  !  Why,  what  the 
diccans  can  you  be  after?  Ain't  there  time  enough  for  that 
question  to-morrow,  or  the  next  day,  or  the  day  after,  or  any 
day  for  the  next  six  months  to  come  ?  We  can  give  you  house- 
room,  stranger,  as  I  told  you  before,  and  keep  you  in  the  dry, 
though  it  rains  rivers.  There's  old  Billy  Badger,  that'll  give 
you  something  more  than  a  supper  — a  sermon  with  it  —  and  be 
glad  that  you  eat  heartily,  if  you  can  hear  well.  Come,  old 
man,  give  us  a  lift,  while  we  set  the  lad  in  your  wagon.  He 
won't  oncommode  the  ladies  much,  and,  if  so  be  he  does,  it  was 
all  their  own  fault  and  yours,  to  git  into  difficulties,  and  he's 
hurt  in  gitting  you  out  of  them.  Give  us  a  lift,  and  look  bet 
ter  pleased,  and,  by  gimini !  I'll  forget  how  little  minded  you 
seem  to  holp  the  man  that  helped  you." 

"  Do  my  father  no  injustice,"  interposed  the  elder  maiden ; 
"he  is  not  indifferent  to  the  fate  of  your  friend  —  of  our  friend 
—  and  will  do  what  you  require,  and  all  that  he  can,  for  his 
succor  and  relief.  Do  not  suppose,  even  had  you  not  been  nigh 
to  urge  it,  that  we  should  have  needed  any  persuasion  to  move 
us  to  so  necessary  an  act  of  duty.  No,  sir,  believe  me,  had 
there  been  no  better  strength  than  that  of  my  own  feeble  frame, 
that  should  have  been  given  for  the  service  of  this  gentleman  ; 
and,  though  I  sank  beneath  the  burden.  I  should,  at  least,  have 


THE    FUGITIVE    FATHER  —  THE    DAUGHTER.  187 

lone  mv  utmost  to  find  succor  for  one  who  has  been  of  the 
greatest  succor  to  us." 

"  I  believe  you,  my  dear  young  lady,  I  believe  you ;  there's 
no  mistake  in  your  face,  by  the  powers !  I  believe  you  jist  as 
much  as  if  your  words  had  come  from  the  lips  of  Rachel  her- 
gelf ;  but  the  old  gentleman — why  don't  he  spunk  up,  and  lend 
a  hand  ?" 

The  keen  eye  of  the  woodman  was  fixed  upon  the  traveller 
as  he  spoke  these  words.  The  latter  became  still  more  con 
fused  at  the  apostrophe  ;  his  glance  sank  to  the  ground,  and 
he  faltered  out  some  only  half-intelligible  accents,  about  the 
necessity  he  was  under  of  pursuing  his  journey,  and  the  incon 
veniences  which  would  arise  to  him,  of  any  unexpected  delay ; 
and  here  he  turned  to  his  daughter,  and  proceeded  to  repeat 
what  he  had  said  to  the  woodman,  touching  the  exigencies  of 
his  situation.  The  blunt  language  of  Rawlins  anticipated  the 
maiden,  and  prevented  her  replying  to  a  speech,  which,  though 
partially  intelligible  only,  seemed  greatly  to  distress  her. 

"  By  the  powers  !  old  gentleman,  to  my  thinking  you  have 
been  saying  anything  but  the  right  thing.  What  are  you  talk 
ing  about  your  journey  for,  at  this  time,  when  here's  the  man 
that  saved  your  throats,  and  your  money,  and  may  be,  God 
only  knows !  saved  this  handsome  young  lady,  that's  your  own 
daughter,  from  something  worse  than  all.  Here  he  is,  I  say, 
lying  on  the  ground,  knocked  over  in  helping  you  out  of  the 
hobble,  and  wanting  help  himself  now  to  get  him  to  a  soft  bed, 
and  a  quiet  place  to  get  well  in.  If  it  hadn't  a-been  for  him, 
who  knows  what  might  have  happened  ?  It's  true  I  was  close 
behind,  but  my  nag's  not  the  creature  that  he  rides.  I'd  ha' 
done  as  much  for  you  as  I  could  ;  but  then  he  did  it,  and  made 
no  promises  ;  so  fall  to,  and  give  me  a  shoulder  here,  while  I 
lift  the  lad  into  your  wagon.  The  ladies  can  sit  on  one  side, 
and  we  can  lay  him  in  the  bottom ;  he's  only  swooned,  and 
won't  know  anything  about  it,  and  it's  only  two  miles  we've 
got  to  go." 

"  Two  miles  !"  exclaimed  the  traveller ;  '•  is  it  only  two  miles 
to  the  ferry  ?" 

"  Ferry !  Why,  what  do  you  want  with  the  ferry  ?"  de 
manded  Rawlins. 


188  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

"  I  must  cross  the  ferry  to-night,"  returner!  the  other, 

"You  can't  —  you  shan't!  by  all  the  powers,  you  shan't! 
You  shall  carry  the  lad  in  your  wagon  to  Billy  Badger's,  which 
is  only  two  miles  off,  and  it  will  be  quite  dark  by  the  time  we 
git  there,  for  you'll  have  to  go  slow  on  account  of  the  lad's  hurts. 
After  that,  if  you  are  so  cursed  hard-hearted,  old  gentleman,  as 
to  set  off  without  waiting  to  know  how  the  man  is  that  resked 
his  life  to  save  yours  and  your. daughter's,  not  to  say  nothing 
about  your  cash,  which  must  be  pretty  considerable,  to  bring 
these  robbers  about  you — " 

"You  mistake — you  mistake,  my  friend  !"  was  the  hasty  in 
terruption  of  the  traveller,  "  I'have  but  little  money  with  me  — 
precious  little  —  nothing  to  speak  of." 

"Tell  that  to  the  chickens  —  the  old  fowls  won't  believe 
you.  But  that's  neither  here  nor  there.  As  for  your  crossing 
the  ferry  this  night,  that's  impossible.  Where  would  you  have 
been  — or  what,  let  me  ask  you,  would  you  have  had  to  cross 
with,  if  the  lad  hadn't  put  in  to  save  you  ?  If  you  don't  choose 
to  do  the  thing  willingly,  by  the  powers,  I'll  do  it  for  you  ! 
I'll  take  possession  of  your  carry-all,  and  fix  the  thing  to  my 
own  liking." 

"Oh!  my  father,  why  will  you  resist  —  why  oppose  any 
longer?"  was  the  pleading  inquiry  of  the  elder  maiden,  whose 
own  solicitations,  though  before  chiefly  whispered,  as  if  in  def 
erence  to  her  father's  years  and  feelings,  were  as  warm  in  ex 
pression,  and  as  humane  in  their  purport,  as  were  those  of  the 
more  abrupt  and  sturdy  woodman.  "  The  gentleman  says 
rightly,"  continued  the  maiden ;  "  we  have  all  been  saved  by 
the  valor  of  his  companion,  and  we  must  see  him  carried  safely 
to  his  dwelling.  Nay,  more,  we  can  not  leave  him  till  he  is 
out  of  clanger." 

"  Virginia,  my  child,  what  is  it  that  you  say  ?  You  know  not 
my  reasons  —  my  necessity,"  was  the  bewildered  response  of 
the  father. 

"Nothing,  my  father,  but  absolute  danger  can  justify  inhu 
manity."  She  laid  down  this  just  principle  with  due  solemnity. 

"I  am  in  danger,"  whispered  the  father  in  her  ear — "foes 
seek  —  evils  beset  —  dangers  follow  me." 

"God  forbid!  say  not  so!  —  your  life- — how?  —  from  what) 


THE   FUGITIVE   FATHER THE    DAUGHTER.  189 

— from  whom  ?  —  speak  to  me,  dear  father  !  Tell  me  all  —  now, 
now.  Let  me  know  wherefore  this  journey  —  why  have  you 
left  your  home  — our  dear  home  —  in  this  strange  and  sudden 
manner  ?" 

The  anxiety  of  the  maiden  almost  overturned  her  caution. 
Her  whispers  became  full  and  perfect  sounds  at  the  close,  and 
were  silenced  in  much  agitation  by  the  father,  who  pointed  to 
Rawlins,  now  approaching  with  the  body  of  Vcrnon,  which  he 
had  lifted  upon  his  massive  shoulders,  and  was  bearing  to  the 
carriage.  The  groan  of  the  father  was  insuppressible. 

"  Not  now,  my  child,  not  now.  We  must  submit  to  this. 
Take  your  seat;  Ellen  will  sit  on  the  front  with  me.  The 
stranger  speaks  truly.  It  might  have  been,  but  for  the  youth's 
coming,  that  we  had  lost  that  which  is  of  more  value  than  life," 
The  parties  were  soon  seated,  and  the  cushions  of  the  vehicle 
.vere  made  to  support,  in  tolerable  ease,  the  form  of  the  wounded 
nan,  from  whom,  an  occasional  escaping  groan  announced  the 
lingering  presence  of  life  within  him.  Having  effected  all  the 
arrangements,  to  his  own  satisfaction  at  least,  Rawlins  took 
charge  of  Vernon's  horse,  which  he  led;  and  congratulating  the 
old  man  upon  his"  slowly-recovered  humanity,  he  proceeded  to 
guide  them  to  the  dwelling  which  he  had  assigned  for  their 
temporary  lodging-house,  leaving  the  dead  robber  to  the  possible 
care  of  his  comrades. 

"  By  the  powers !  old  gentleman,"  said  he,  with  an  air  ot 
great  toleration,  as  he  rode  up  beside  the  vehicle,  and  looked 
in  upon  the  face  of  his  companion,  "  it  was  only  because  of  the 
young  ladies  that  I  let  you  off  so  easily.  When  you  wanted  to 
back  out,  and  leave  the  lad  in  his1  blood,  when  he  had  just  done 
getting  you  out  of  a  mighty  ugly  scrape,  I  had  it  in  my  mind 
to  make  you  walk  your  own  trotters,  and  take  the  wagon  to 
myself  altogether ;  for,  you  see,  it  would  have  been  mighty 
shameful  in  you  to  go  off  in  safety,  not  asking  and  not  caring 
what  became  of  him  that  helped  you.  If  you  had  seen  him  ride 
as  I  did,  when  he  heard  the  screams  of  the  ladies,  and  seen  his 
face  when  he  spoke,  and  heard  his  words  when  he  cried  to  me 
that  was  riding  close  behind  him,  '  A  woman's  voice,  Rawlins  !' 
—  Rawlins  is  my  name,  sir  —  you  would  say  to  yourself,  'By 
the.  powers!  this  is  the  very  sort  of  man  to  wrap  up  in  your 


|90  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

heart,  anfl  to  love,'  and  I  love  him,  stranger,  by  the  powers!— 
1  love  the  lad  for  what  I've  seen  him  do  to-day,  jist  the  same  as 
if  1  know'd  him  for  a  hundred  years,  though  I  never  set  eyes 
on  him  afore  to-day." 

"  He  is  a  stranger,  then,  in  this  neighborhood  I '  was  the 
inquiry  of  the  old  gentleman. 

••  A  traveller,  like  yourself;  he  comes  from  below— -I  reckon 
from  some  of  the  old  states,  for  he's  got  a  sight  of  1'arning, 
knows  everything,  and  talks  jist  like  a  book." 

The  eyes  of  the  elder  maiden  were  fixed  for  awhile  with  in 
creasing  interest  upon  the  pale  countenance  of  the  wounded 
man,  and  she  now  remarked  the  finely-formed  and  expressive 
features  —  expressive  even  while  overspread  by  a  pallor  such 
as  that  of  death  — the  softness  and  fineness  of  his  skin,  the 
small,  sweet  mouth,  and  the  flowing  locks  of  hair,  which  escaped 
in  small,  single  ringlets  from  the  confining  cap  which  he  wore, 
but  which  had  been  displaced  by  the  motion  of  the  carriage. 

The  instincts  of  women  are  no  less  busy  and  prompt  than 
those  of  men ;  else  why  should  the  maiden  blush  when  she  be 
held  the  eyes  of  the  woodman   suddenly  cast  upon  her,  as  she 
scanned  the  features  of  his  unconscious  companion?     She  ha-d, 
with  equal  suddenness,  arrived  at  the  conviction  that  the  face 
of  the  stranger  youth  was  one  of  the  most  noble  she  had  ever 
seen,  and  distinguished  by  that  delicacy  of  feature  and  expres 
sion  which  are  conjectured  to  denote  equally  aristocratic  birth 
and  natural  genius.     This  conviction  was,  perhaps,  strengthened 
by  the  few  words  which  Rawlins  had  spoken,  and  which  repre- 
ecnted  the  youth  as  a  traveller  like  themselves.     Imagination 
soon  busied  itself  to  discover  his  objects,  his  pursuits,  family, 
and  mental  resources ;  and  even  when  the  searching  glance  of 
the  woodman   compelled   her  to  avert  her  eyes  to  the  opposite 
r.ide  of  the  carriage  from  the  wounded  man,  the  subject  was  too 
interesting  to  suffer  her  to  forego  its  consideration,  which  em 
ployed  her   young  thoughts   and  virgin   fancies  in  a  manner 
which  did  not  please  the  less  because  they  lacked  all  means  for 
arriving  at  any  conclusion. 

The  carriage  at  length  reached  Zion's  Hill— the  name  which 
the  strongly-assured  methodist  had  conferred  upon  his  habita 
tion—and  yet  Virginia  Wilson  — for  Wilson  was  the  name 


THE    RIGHTEOUS    ELDER. 


given  by  her  father,  as  his  own,  in  reply  to  the  demand  of 
Rawlins — with  a  tenacity  which  is  probably  rational  enough 
among  young  ladies  in  all  such  cases,  had  not  yet  exhausted 
her  subject. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

THE  RIGHTEOUS  ELDER — THE  UNRIGHTEOUS  SON  —  THE  HEAGLE? 
IX  SWAMP. 

Wohey. Sir, 

For  holy  offices  I  have  a  time;  a  time 
To  think  upon  the  part  of  business  which 
I  bear  i'  the  state.—  King  Henry  VIII. 

THE  party  was  received  very  cordially,  though  with  great 
solemnity,  by  the  sober  methodist.  He  descend-ed  from  his 
steps  to  the  carriage;  freely  welcomed  the  proprietor;  com 
manded  all  care  for  the  wounded  man ;  bade  his  servants  in 
attendance;  had  refreshments  served,  and  though,  in  these  re 
spects,  exhibiting  the  essentials  of  a  most  solid  and  earnest  hos 
pitality,  he  never  yet  unbent  a  muscle  of  his  hard  countenance, 
nor  modulated  to  softness  the  harsh  accents  of  a  voice,  stern, 
cold,  slow,  emphatic,  and  measuredly  monotonous.  He  listened 
to  the  unuwial  narrative  of  their  escape,  with  the  same  com 
posure  as  he  would  have  heard  the  complaints  of  his  niece, 
Rachel,  who  had  pricked  her  finger  with  a  needle;  and  his 
congratulations  of  the  party  on  ^heir  escape,  were  uttered  with 
very  much  like  the  manner  which  he  employed  when  saying 
.grace  before  the  morning  meal.  A  matter-of-fact  face  received 
every  circumstance,  and  requited  all  the  wonders  which  he 
hrard;  mid  nothing  in  the  world  could  be  more  mortifying  to 
the  enthusiastic  temperament,  than  the  repulsive  and  chilling 
expression  of  a  countenance  that  seemed  to  be  set  on  high,  as  a 
sort  of  moral  scarecrow,  to  rebuke  the  intrusive  passions,  the 
fervid  temperament,  the  glowing  and  impatient  zeal,  that  burns, 
and  swells,  and  bounds,  and  is  never  so  angry  as  when  't  ea 


192  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

counters  the  high  fences  which  prudence  sets  up  to  restrain  its 
roving  and  incursive  propensities. 

William  Badger  had  no  sympathy  with  the  enthusiasm  that 
dilates  readily  at  every  impulse.  His  enthusiasm  was  all  re 
ligious  ;  his  zeal,  deep,  earnest,  and  perpetually  glowing,  was 
restrained  by  that  decorum  alone,  which  is  the  fruit  of  intense 
veneration.  To  speak  fast,  seemed  to  his  mind  to  indulge  in 
levity;  to  utter  promptly  his  feelings,  might  be  to  do  injustice 
to  his  own  judgment,  to  the  governing  providence  of  God,  or 
to  the  rights  and  interests  of  others.  It  may  be  added,  that, 
with  a  temperament  sanguine  in  the  extreme ;  a  mind  free,  full, 
and  active ;  an  intense  self-esteem,  and  that  disposition  to  sway 
which  is,  perhaps,  a  natural  attribute  of  such  a  character,  his 
impetuosity  of  disposition  was  simply  methodized  and  more 
completely  systematized  and  made  equal  from  the  external  re 
straints  put  upon  it. 

.  "  I  have  seen  him  in  a  roaring  passion,"  said  Rawlins  to  his 
companion,  "  when  he  didn't  know  what  he  said  or  did,  arid  swore 
like  a  Mississippi  boatman ;  and  yet  one  word  came  out  after 
another  jist  as  slowly  as  if  he  was  making  his  morning  prayer. 
He's  a  most  strange  man,  that  same  Billy  Badger  ;  but  he  means 
always  to  do  right,  even  when  he's  most  wrong ;  and  if  you'll 
let  him  alone,  when  he's  most  wrong,  he'll  come  right  after  a 
season ;  but  I  do  think  he'd  not  suffer  the  angel  Gabriel  to  set 
him  right,  or  show  him  that  he  was  wrong,  one  minute  before 
he  was  willing  to  see  it  for  himself." 

The  first  care  of  all  parties  was  to  see  into  the  condition  and 
render  assistance  to  the  wounded  man.  He  was  conveyed  into 
a  quiet  chamber,  and  Badger  himself  attended  chiefly  to  his 
hurts.  An  inspection  of  them  showed  him  to  have  been  wounded 
by  two  balls,  both  of  which  had  fortunately  struck  fleshy  parts 
of  the  thigh,  and  the  swooning  had  been  occasionc-d  by  the  loss 
of  blood,  and  not  in  consequence  of  any  serious  causes  of  ex 
haustion. 

When  the  venerable  elder  had  satisfied  himself  of  these  facts, 
he  made  very  light,  in  his  solemn  manner,  of  the  danger,  and 
assured  the  anxious  Rawlins  that  the  youth  would  scarcely  feel 
his  hurts  in  a  day  or  two.  The  balls  not  having  lodged,  but 
having  cut  the  flesh  in  two  parallel  spots,  some  two  inches  apart 


THE    RIGHTEOUS    ELDER.  198 

it  was  easy  to  dress  the  wounds,  which  had  already  ceased  to 
pour  forth  those  free  streams  which,  at  first,  had  threatened  to 
exhaust  the  fountains  of  life  within  him,  and  might  have  done 
so,  but  for  the  timely  bandaging  that  Bawling  had  made  both 
below  and  above  the  places  which  were  hurt. 

Badger,  who  asked  no  counsel  of  those  around  him,  adminis 
tered  a  sleeping  draught  to  the  patient,  which  silenced  the 
groans,  at  moments  escaping  feebly  from  his  lips,  and  set  him 
to  sleep  so  soundly  that  there  was  but  little  prospect  —  accord 
ing  to  the  woodman  —  of  his  hearing  any  of  the  long  sermon 
that  night. 

To  do  Mr.  Wilson  all  manner  of  justice,  we  may 'say,  that  he 
showed  no  lack  of  interest  in  the  situation  of  the  young  man 
He  watched  beside  him  until  Badger  had  declared  his  perfect 
conviction  of  his  safety,  and  then  left  him  only  to  quiet  the  be 
coming  anxiety  of  another,  whose  solicitude  in  his  fate,  which 
might  have  seemed  improper  under  other  circumstances,  found 
its  sufficient  justification  in  her  gratitude. 

Virginia  Wilson  felt  a  strange  beating  at  her  heart,  and 
trembled  with  a  new  sentiment  of  pleasure,  as  she  listened  to 
these  tidings.  Was  there  anything  singular  in  the  fact  that 
she  retired  that  instant  to  the  chamber  which  had  been  assigned 
herself  and  younger  sister,  and  shed  in  secret  those  tears  which 
it  might  have  puzzled  her  to  explain  why  she  shed  at  all.  Yet 
such  was  the  case,  and  those  tears,  it  may  be  added,  were  no 
less  sweetly  strange  to  her  own  heart,  than  they  would  have 
been  surprising  to  any  other  not  perfectly  conscious  of  their 
source. 

Meanwhile,  Mr.  Wilson  and  our  friend  Bawlins  were  com 
pelled  to  undergo  the  protracted  examination  of  the  methodist, 
on  the  subject  of  the  late  adventure;  the  circumstances  of 
which  seemed  to  awaken  in  him  no  less  curiosity  than  concern. 

"Evil  is  abroad  in  the  world,"  he  said,  beginning  to  sermon 
ize  at  the  conclusion  of  his  examination ;  "  there  is  no  place 
altogether  secure  from  the  dominion  of  Satan ;  but  that  here, 
so  nigh  unto  Zion,  where  I  have,  for  the  space  of  two  blessed 
years,  striven  to  uphold  the  work  and  the  worship  of  our  heav 
enly  Father  —  that  sin  should  so  boldly  demean  herself,  seems  tc 
be  as  passing  strange,  as  it  is  sad.  But,  marvel  ye  not.  Waltc? 


194  BOEDER   BEAGLES. 

Rawlins,  at  what  I  am  about  to  say  to  you;  and  regard  it  not 
as  unbecoming  in  one  who  preaches  peace  on  earth  and  good 
will  to  all  men,  if  I  declare  to  you  that  we  must  all  arise  and 
put  on  the  armor  of  strife,  yea,  the  very  armor  of  man,  and  gird 
upon  our  thighs  the  carnal  weapons  of  human  wrath.  The 
traveller  must  notbestrickendownuponthe  highway  without 
summons  of  eternity,  without  warning  to  prepare  for  death  in 
season.  We  must  go  forth  in  seeking  for  these  bloody  men; 
we  must  put  them  to  defiance ;  and  as  they  have  not  hearkened 
to  our  words  of  prayer  and  peace,  neither  have  they  given  heed 
to  the  forebearance  of  our  own  example,  then  must  we  use- 
against  them  the  same  weapons  which  they  are  so  ready  to  use 
against  the  wayfaring  man,  and  we  must  smite  them  hip  and 
thigh  to  their  utter  undoing.  If  they  will  not  hearken  to  the 
imploring  angel;  if  they  will  not  heed  the  promise  of  the  for 
giving  angel;  nor  incline  their  hearts  to  the  prayers  of  the 
righteous,  God  will  commission  the  destroying  angel,  even  as 
hehascommissionedhimagainstthe  Amalekiteand  the  Assyr 
ian  of  old,  until  there  be  none  left  to  tell  the  story  of  their  un 
deserving,  and  their  heaped-up  bones  alone  shall  remain  to 
declare  their  sudden  punishment,  in  warning  to  the  other 
tribes  of  evildoers  which  shall  follow  them.  Truly,  it  grieves 
me,  that  here,  within  sight  of  the  Hill  of  Zion,  which  I  had 
thought  to  set  apart  as  a  spot  where  evil  should  not  have 
foothold  or  countenance,  such  deeds  should  be  done  as  shall 
make  the  traveller  tremble  to  approach,  even  when  he  comes 
on  the  sabbath, seeking  crumbs  of  comfort  from  the  Lord.  My 
heart  is  full  of  shame  within  me,  that  I  should  have  fought  the 
good  fight  with  so  feeble  an  arm,  and  should  have  gone  into 
battle  with  a  spirit  waxing  faint  in  the  hour  when  there  is 
most  need  of  performance.  Here, Mr.  Wilson,  with  the  Lord's 
favor, did  I  pitch  my  tent,  at  a  time  when  the  land  around  me 
was  in  possession  of  the  heathen,  though  even  then  decreed  for 
the  heritage  of  the  believing.  Well  may  I  declare  it  was  like 
unto  a  desert,  where  the  dews  of  heavenly bountynever  f  ell,or 
if  they  fell,  which  were  drunk  up  without  profit  to  earth  or 
heaven  by  the  thirsty,  but  unimproving  sands.  Since  that 
time, the  heath  en  hath  sunk  away  fromthebroad  possession  of 
the  land,  and  hath  given  place  to  a  people  which,  if  they  be  not 


IIGHTKOUS    ELDEit. 


yet  holy,  ware  yet  better  favored  of  God  with  the  true  lights 
of  righteousness.  Many,  I  am  glad  to  declare,  have  had  the 
fountains  of  life  to  spring  up  within  their  hearts,  with  a  stream 
ing  which  shall  never  fail;  but  as  thou  seest,  there  are  many 
si  ill  who  grope  in  the  way  of  darkness,  and  fight  under  the 
banners  of  the  mighty  sinner  who  first  made  all  to  sin.  These 
r./ubers  who  have  assailed,  with  design  perchance  to  slay — " 

The  harangue  which,  temperately  begun,  promised  to  be  of 
interminable  dimensions,  was  here  cut  short  by  the  interruption 
of  one  who  had  entered  without  being  seen  by  the  elder.  This 
was  his  only  son,  Gideon,  a  youth  of  twenty  years  or  there 
abouts,  whom  Rawlins  had  already  described  as  a  "sly  fellow, 
having  something  wrong  about  him,"  and  one  whom  he  did  not 
like.  The  youth  was  a  proper-looking  youth  enough  ;  but  his 
keen,  quick  eye,  the  lively  play  of  temper  about  his  mouth,  the 
sudden  transition  of  expression  in  his  glance,  his  studious  meth- 
odism  in  garb  and  accent,  so  much  at  variance  with  the  natural 
characteristics  of  his  countenance  and  manner,  would  have  im 
pressed  a  close  spectator  with  a  conviction  of  the  perfect  feli 
city  of  Rawlins's  brief,  but  comprehensive  description.  He  sat 
demurely  in  the  seat  which  he  had  taken  at  entrance,  immedi 
ately  behind  his  father  ;  his  hands  were  clasped  upon  his  knees, 
his  legs  drawn  up,  and  half  inclined  beneath  his  chair,  his  eyes 
cast  down  upon  the  floor  even  while  he  spoke.  His  interrup 
tion  arose  quite  as  much,  if  the  truth  was  known,  from  his  im 
patience  at  a  sort  of  exhortation,  in  which,  whatever  might  be 
the  case  with  the  traveller,  his  experienced  ears  found  little  of 
novelty :  and  though,  in  what  he  said,  he  fancied  he  should 
gratify  the  amour  projsre  of  the  veteran  religionist,  his  aim  was, 
perhaps  simply  to  suppress  a  discourse,  of  which  the  reader  has 
probably  had  quite  as  much  as  himself,  and  may  thank  him  for 
the  interruption. 

"  It  may  be,  sir,  that  you  are  doing  some  injustice  to  your 
own  labors,  and  to  the  character  of  the  goodly  neighborhood  in 
which  we  live.  I  am  of  the  opinion,  sir,  that  these  robbers 
must  be  strangers  in  these  parts,  the  outcasts  from  other  states 
and  cities,  men  of  desperate  hope  and  fortune,  who  rove  the 
country  like  raging  lions  seeking  whom  they  shall  devour,  and 
none  of  whom  have  ever  hearkened  to  your  voice,  or  to  the 


196  BORDER  BEAGLES. 

wholesome  preaching  of  any  of  God's  servants.  I  can  not  think 
that  any  of  those  whom  we  are  accustomed  to  behold  at  Zion's 
Hill,  hearkening-  to  the  word,  will  ever  be  found  in  the  evil 
ways  of  these  wretched  robbers." 

The  lurking  tribute  to  the  old  man's  vanity  which  was  con 
tained  in  this  speech,  did  not  do  away  with  the  impertinence 
of  the  interruption.  The  father,  slowly  and  without  a  word, 
when  he  first  heard  the  voice  of  the  son,  wheeled  his  chair 
about  so  that  he  might  face  the  speaker.  He  heard  him 
patiently  to  the  end,  and  then  answered  him  in  grave,  steru 
accents. 

"  And  what  know  you,  Gideon  Badger,  of  the  hearts  of  men, 
even  though  they  be  neighbors  unto  Zion's  Hill  ?  And  what 
know  you  of  these  robbers,  of  whom  you  speak  so  readily,  that 
you  should  venture  to  hope  —  ay,  sir,  I  say  to  hope  —  tin.,  all 
or  even  any  of  those  who  hearken  to  God's  word  in  this  place, 
are  free  from  the  damnable  leprosy  of  sin  ?  There  is  a  great 
presumption  in  thy  thoughts,  Gideon  Badger,  which  should  be 
chastened  by  prayer,  by  the  prayer  of  an  anguished  spirit,  that 
knows  its  own  presumption,  and  can  find  no  check  to  chasten  it 
but  that  which  is  the  free  gift  of  God  himself.  When  thou 
speakest  so  freely  of  the  goodness  of  thy  neighbors,  I  greatly 
fenr  thou  speakest  a  vain  thing.  There  are  many  among  them 
whom  I  fear  lack  overmuch  the  becoming  humility  of  God's 
servants,  and  need  the  visitation  of  the  Savior  in  their  secret 
places,  before  they  will  hold  up  clean  hands  and  pure  hearts  in 
the  sight  of  their  heavenly  Maker.  Nay,  more,  Gideon  Badger, 
it  is  thy  practice  to  seek  and  commune  with  some  of  those  of 
whom  but  little  that  is  good  may  be  spoken.  There  is  that  idle 
man  who  lives  by  taking  the  innocent  fish  that  swim  to  and  fro 
in  the  Chitta-Loosa,  which,  though  it  bears  a  name  of  the  hea 
then,  is  yet  no  less  a  river  of  the 'Lord  —  he  whom  they  call 
Weston,  whose  blacksmith  craft  were  of  great  profit  to  him 
would  he  pursue  it,  is  another  of  whom  it  were  well  if  thou 
hadst  less  knowledge — " 

Here  the  old  man  experienced  another  interruption,  but  this 
time  from  no  less  a  person  than  our  friend  Rawlins. 

"He  will  have  no  more  knowledge  of  Weston,"  said  the 
woodman,  "than  he  has  already,  *ud  that  I  can  give  you  now, 


THE    RIGHTEOUS   ELDER.  197\ 

since  Weston  was  the  very  man  who  was  shot  down  by  Mr.  " 
Vernon  : — he  sat  on  top  of  the  old  gentleman,  there,  Mr.  Wil 
son,  with  pistol  out,  and  another  loaded  in  his  breast,  when 
Vernon  tumbled  him.  Here  are  the  pistols  which  I  took  from 
him,  here's  his  knife,  and  these  knick-knacks  also  came  out  of  his 
pocket.  His  carcass  lies  in  the  cross-roads  at  this  moment, 
where  anybody  who  wants,  can  have  it  for  the  carriage." 

JThis  revelation  startled  the  methoclist  out  of  something  of 
his  equanimity.  He  half  rose  from  his  seat  while  Rawlins 
spoke,  but  instantly  resuming  it,  as  if  conscious  of  improper 
precipitancy  of  movement,  he  sat  quietly,  without  further  mo 
tion,  until  the  tale  was  finished  ;  his  eyes  meanwhile  wandering, 
with  obvious  anxiety  in  their  glance,  from  the  speaker  to  his 
son,  and  from  him  again  to  the  speaker.  When  the  latter  had 
finished  his  statement,  and  thrown  down  upon  a  table  the  arms 
and  other  articles  which  he  had  taken  from  the  slain  robber, 
the  old  man  spoke,  but  his  voice  and  manner  had  resumed  all 
their  deliberateness. 

"  Walter  Rawlins,  this  is  a  dreadful  tale  which  thou  tellest, 
and  I  tremble  to  hear  it,  as  I  can  not  doubt  that  thou  tellest  me 
the  truth." 

"  True  as  gospel,  Mr.  Badger,  if  eyes  don't  cheat  one  in  the 
business." 

"Make  no. irreverent  comparisons,  young  man,  between  such 
truth  which  thou  tellest,  on  the  authority  of  thy  mortal  sight, 
and  that  wondrous  truth  of  the  gospel  which  comes  of  the  sight 
of  God.  Thy  truth  hath  its  use  and  its  value,  and  I  question 
it  not,  but  the  truth  of  eternity  is  another  thing  from  the  truth 
of  time,  and  God  strengthen  the  poor  eyes  that  see  but  the 
one,  that  they  be  not  blinded  with  the  outer  brightness  and 
perfection  of  the  other.  Truly,  I  make  no  doubt"  that  thou 
hast  seen  this  wretched  man,  Weston,  in  the  condition  which 
thou  describest,  though  it  is  a  sinful  scorn  of  God's  best  work 
on  earth  to  leave  the  frame  even  of  the  wicked  man  to  rot 
above  the  earth,  a  prey  to  the  carrion  birds  and  beasts  who 
prowl  by  night  for  food.  His  burial  must  be  seen  to,  his  proper 
burial ;  and  we  shall  commit  him  to  his  final  resting-place,  with 
a  prayer  for  mercy,  though  cut  off  in  the  very  acting  of  his 
miserable  crime.  Gideon  Badger.  Gideon  Badger,  my  son. 


BORDER   BEAGLES 

give  tkanks  to  God  this  night  that  my  timely  warning  to  the€ 
against  this  man  severed  the  association  between  ye,  else  it 
might  have  ripened  into  an  intimacy  with  the  same  sins  on 
thy  part,  and  may  have  been  followed  by  a  death  to  thee  no 
less  sudden  than  it  has  been  to  him  —  a  death  wi^out  repent 
ance  and  without  hope.  Truly,  thy  tidings,  Walter  Rawlins, 
are  full  of  terror.  This  is  an  awful  visitation.  In  the  midst 
of  life  we  are  in  death.  We  know  not  the  hour,  yet  we  must 
obey  the  summons,  however  sudden.  This  miserable  creature 
—  well  that  he  hath  no  parent  to  sorrow  for  his  sudden  smiting, 
and  his  unatoned  sins ;  he  hath  no  hope  of  sympathy  and  sor 
row  from  us  —  the  law  of  God  and  the  law  of  man  command  us 
otherwise.  We  are  called  upon  to  exult  in  the  death  of  the 
evildoer,  to  rejoice  in  the  downfall  of  sin  —  but  we  must  put 
the  dead  out  of  our  sight.  Earth  to  earth,  dust  to  dust ;  and  it 
differs  not  though  the  earth  be  that  of  the  sinner.  We  are  all 
sinners,  even  when  we  are  best ;  redeemed  through  grace  and 
mercy,  and  not  because  of  our  own  righteousness.  Let  us  go 
forth  and  put  our  brother  in  sin  into  the  grave,  with  a  prayer 
for  mercy  to  him  and  to  ourselves.  Order  you  the  hands  to 
gether,  Gideon  Badger,  and  bid  them  provide  themselves  with 
torches.  Let  Timothy  and  Ephraim  bring  pick  and  spade,  that 
we  may  not  waste  precious  time." 

Gideon  Badger  went  slowly  to  the  performance  of  this  duty, 
and  some  time  elapsed  before  the  party  was  in  readiness. 
Leaving  his  guests  in  charge  of  his  niece,  Rachel,  of  whom  the 
garrulous  Walter  Rawlins  has  permitted  us  to  know  something 
already,  Mr.  Badger  mounted  his  steed,  a  heavy,  English-built 
animal,  sturdy,  and  slow,  and  solemn,  like  himself,  and  set  forth 
with  all  the  phlegmatic  deliberation  of  manner  which  distin 
guished  the  ancient  puritan  going  forth  to  battle.  There  were 
not  wanting  other  matters  to  strengthen  this  similitude.  He 
carried  a  pair  of  wide-mouthed  iron  horse-pistols  at  his  saddle 
bow,  a  pair  which  he  had  borne  with  him  into  battle  when,  in 
his  younger  days,  he  followed  the  banner  of  Andrew  Jackson. 
among  the  mounted  men  of  Coffee's  brigade,  and  went  down 
from  Tennessee  to  the  fierce  and  close  combats  on  the  Talla- 
poosa.  Nor  did  he  fbrget  to  take  with  him  on  this  occasion  the 
knotted  hickory,  a  massive  clul).  Almost  of  the  thickness  of  1m 


THE   RIGHTEOUS    ELDER.  19$ 

wrist,  which,  as  the  supposed  characteristic  of  a  hero  whom  <ie 
regarded  with  a  large  degree  of  veneration,  he  had  made  his 
own  inseparable  companion,  not  simply  in  times  of  danger,  but 
on  all  occasions. 

"And  danger,"  said  the  old  rnethodist,  defending  the  pro 
priety  of  this  practice,  "  is  even  like  sin,  a  thing  of  all  occa 
sions.  The  man  of  wisdom  borrows  his  lessons  from  the 
Christian,  and  goes  armed  and  ready  at  all  times  for  the  enemy 
There  is  no  telling  at  what  moment  we  may  meet  with  him, 
nor  iii  what  shape ;  whether  he  shall  appear  as  the  wild  beast 
of  the  wilderness,  or  as  the  wretched  robber,  seeking  for  your 
substance.  Therefore,  I  say  to  you,  be  ye  always  ready." 

He  was  attended  by  his  son  Gideon,  and  Walter  Rawlins, 
both  equally  well-armed  with  himself,  and  followed  by  some 
six  or  eight  negro  men,  his  entire  force  of  males,  some  of  them 
bearing  ligktwood  torches,  and  the  rest,  the  necessary  imple 
ments  for  breaking  the  mould,  and  preparing  the  place  of  inter 
ment.  They  traversed  the  path  in  silence  and  without  inter 
ruption,  but,  to  the  astonishment  of  all,  the  dead  robber  was  no 
where  to  be  found.  The  traces  of  the  conflict  were  numerous 
— the  blood  lay  in  clotted  masses  on  the  sand  and  leaves;  but 
neither  on  the  spot  where  he  had  been  described  as  having 
fallen,  nor  in  the  immediately  contiguous  bushes  of  the  forest 
could  they  find  traces  of  his  mode  of  disappearance. 

"  How  know  you  that  his  wounds  were  death-wounds,  Wai 
ter  Rawlins  ?"  demanded  the  methodist.  "  May  it  not  be  tha 
he  hath  feigned  death  while  ye  were  present,  having  no  seriou? 
hurt,  and  hath  stolen  away  from  the  place  of  battle,  the  moinenv 
ye  had  all  gone  from  sight  ?" 

"  If  he  did,"  replied  Rawlins  with  a  hearty  laugh,  "  he  wat 
able  to  do  with  less  brains  than  any  man  I  ever  heard  tell  of 
before.  But  there's  no  danger  of  that ;  his  skull  was  crunched 
by  the  bullet,  and  a  piece  of  it  was  wanting — clean  blown  off 
—  as  large  as  a  table-spoon.  Besides,  I  felt  at  his  heart  more 
than  once,  while  I  was  searching  his  pockets,  for  I  didn't  want 
that  a  dead  man  even  should  open  his  eyes  and  catch  me  strip 
ping  him.  The  beat  was  all  gone  out  of  his  breast,  be.fore  1 
come  up  from  chasing  his  brother  rascals." 

"  Verily,  Walter,  thou  couldst  not  have  chased  them  to  a 


200  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

great  distance,  for  they  have  surely  returner!  to  his  assistance, 
arid  it  is  by  their  help  that  he  hath  been  taken  away." 

"  Like  enough,  sir ;  but  I  did  give  'em  a  chase,  and  a  mighty 
close  one  for  the  time  I  took  about  it.  I  wasn't  going  to  run 
'em  fifty  miles,  when  dark  was  coming  on,  and  my  company 
was  waiting  for  me  in  the  open  road.  Besides,  there  was  little 
chance,  if  I  didn't  tree  'em  at  the  first  jump,  that  I  should  find 
'em,  me  one  only,  in  a  close  thicket  like  that.  That  canebrako 
would  hide  a  hundred  rascals  from  the  most  honest  nose  among 
us  all." 

"  It  needs  not  that  we  should  speak  longer  in  this  idle  fash 
ion  :  thou  hast  too  great  a  vanity  of  thy  speech,  Walter  Raw- 
lins.  It  is  a  sin  in  youth  to  multiply  words,  having  neither  ex 
perience  nor  thinking  to  make  them  stable  and  of  fitting  effect. 
Thou  shouldst  better  prefer  to  hear  the  language  of  wisdom,  in 
the  counsels  of  age.  Years  must  pass  over  thee,  and  thou  must 
clothe  thyself  in  holiest  meditation,  even  as  with  a  shrouding 
garment,  which  shall  wrap  thee  in  from  all  worldly  shows  and 
affinities,  before  it  will  be  thy  right,  or  in  any  wise  becoming  in 
thee,  to  speak  freely  in  the  presence  of  men,  or  confidently 
among  their  counsels.  I  will  speak  more  to  thee  of  this  sub 
ject  on  the  way  homeward.  Turn  thy  horse,  therefore,  which 
improperly  crosseth  the  path,  so  that  I  may  advance  before 
thee.  It  is,  perhaps,  well  that  we  are  not  required  to  perform 
this  awful  ceremony  of  committing  dust  to  dust.  Let  the  dead 
bury  the  dead ;  these  are  the  written  words,  which  truly 'signify 
that  the  wicked  should  take  upon  themselves  the  task  of  put 
ting  their  fellow-sinners  from  sight.  Yet,  young  men,  the  cere 
mony  of  human  burial  is  not  an  unfitting  spectacle  for  the 
young  and  erring  like  yourselves;  and  had  these  wretched  peo 
ple  left  us  the  task  of  committing  their  slain  comrade  to  the 
earth,  I  should  have  striven  to  fill  your  minds  with  the  goodly 
workings  of  religious  truth.  Ye  should  have  had  ample  premo 
nition  of  the  fate  of  wickedness,  so  that  your  hearts  might  have 
been  touched  in  season,  and  your  souls  warned  with  a  righteous 
fear,  which  should  have  moved  you  in  all  haste  to  fly  from  the 
wrath  which  is  to  come.  Nay,  there  is  yet  time  for  this,  and, 
God  willing,  joung  men,  this  shall  be  the  subject  of  our  evening 
exhortation,  ere  we  seek  our  rest  this  night." 


THE   RIGHTEOUS   ELDER.  201 

An  audible  groan  burst  from  tbe  lips  of  Gideon  Badger, 
which  the  father  ascribed  naturally  enough  to  the  solemn  and 
sad  course  of  meditation  which  his  words  had  inspired  in  the 
breast  of  the  youth.  The  less  rigid  mind  of  Walter  Rawlins 
referred  it  to  a  more  simple,  and  perhaps  equally  natural  cause 
—  the  terror  which  such  a  threat  as  that  of  the  father  was 
always  calculated  to  awaken  in  his  own  bosom,  seemed  quite 
sufficient  to  justify  the  audibly-expressed  tribulation  of  Gideon. 
If  he  suspected  the  latter  of  a  little  hypocrisy,  he  gave  him 
credit,  at  least,  for  a  certain  degree  of  sympathy  with  himself 
in  the  unfavorable  estimate  which  he  had  made  of  the  elder's 
solemn  outpourings  —  the  chief  objection  to  which,  in  his  mind, 
consisted  in  the  fact  that  they  occupied  time  which  could  be 
much  more  pleasantly  disposed  of,  in  communion  with  one 
whose  discourse,  if  less  saintly,  was  far  more  sweet,  and  whose 
periods  were  uttered  with  less  elaborate  lips,  and  closed  some 
times  with  far  more  pleasant  emphasis. 

"  But  if  the  disappearance  of  this  slain  robber  relieves  us  of 
one  duty,  Walter  Rawlins,"  continued  the  old  man  in  a  differ 
ent  strain  of  thought,  "  it  seems  to  impress  upon  us  the  necessity 
of  other  duties,  no  less  painful,  and,  perhaps,  more  full  of 
trouble  and  danger.  It  is  clear  that  the  companions  of  this 
robber  bear  the  name  of  legion — they  are  many,  since  they 
attack  the  traveller  in  troops  and  squadrons  —  they  are  bold, 
since  they  attack  him  in  the  broad  daylight,  and  near  unto  the 
very  foot  of  Zion's  Hill — nor  doth  their  boldness  appear  less 
remarkable  from  the  fact  that  they  have  scarcely  been  driven 
from  their  prey,  with  the  loss  of  one  slain  from  their  number, 
before  they  return  to  the  spot  and  carry  him  away  in  safety. 
This  conduct  betokeneth  the  insolence  of  numbers.  Doubtless, 
they  came  hither  after  your  departure,  with  a  force  increased 
sufficiently  to  enable  them  to  avenge  their  loss.  The  madness  of 
wickedness  would  not  stop  even  at  the  wanton  and  useless  repeti 
tion  of  their  crime.  All  this  calleth  loudly  for  exertion  among 
the  true  peacemakers,  the  righteous,  and  well-wishing  among 
mankind  ;  and  for  the  suppression  of  these  evil-doers,  the  neigh- 
bDrs  must  be  stirred  up  into  activity  and  wrath.  Rumors  have 
reached  me  before  this,  of  a  gathering  of  evil  men  along  this 
heathen  river ;  and  now,  when  it  cometh  so  nearly  to  our  own 

9* 


-       202  KORDKIJ    BEACLES. 

doors,  it  behooveth  me  as  a  magistrate  under  an  earthly  ruler 
no  less  than  as  one  commissioned  by  the  Most  High,  to  sear^-li 
into  this  sin,  with  keen  eyes  and  a  sleepless  spirit.-  Of  this  \ve 
must  have  speech  and  counsel  to-morrow,  giving  our  prayerful 
application  to  the  Lord  Jesus  ere  we  lie  down  to-night,  that  the 
right  wisdom  may  fill  our  understandings,  so  that  we  fall  upon 
the  fitting  purpose,  and  take  our  way  along  the  only  path.  Bid 
the  hands  follow,  Gideon  Badger  —  they  loiter  idly  with  their 
torches,  and  their  voices  swell  into  unruly  sounds  that  are 
scarcely  seemly  in  this  solemn  hour." 

They  had  scarcely  gone  from  sight,  when  three  men,  well 
armed,  emerged  from  the  edge  of  the  swamp  thicket 

"  By  the  Dog  Shadow  of  Loosa-Chitta,"  said  one  whose  voice 
announced  no  other  person  than  our  old  acquaintance,  Saxon, 
"  Badger  deals  in  no  small  shot ;  he's  a  hundred  pound  parson, 
and  I  shall  owe  him  large  acknowledgments  when  next  I  find 
it  needful  to  become  ghostly  and  unctuous.  That  Gideon  is  a 
precious  rascal ;  he  groaned  most  piteously,  as  if  no  river  could 
wash  the  salt  savor  and  the  true  leaven  out  of  him.  Yet  you 
tell  me  he  scampered  off  rather  fast,  Burritt  ?" 

"  Ay,  as  fast  as  two  slender  shanks  could  carry  a  small  body 
and  a  frightened  heart.  We  put  him  at  the  easiest  business — 
only  to  hold  the  horses  while  Weston  grappled  the  old  man, 
and  I  looked  for  the  cash.  With  the  first  sound  of  the  enemy, 
he  was  off." 

"And  had  this  old  man  any  cash  ?" 

"  I'm  afraid  not,  or  he  hid  it  too  snugly  for  us  to  find  it  in  a 
hurry.  The  watch  was  all  I  brought  off,  and  that  I  pulled  from 
the  daughter's  side  almost  without  her  knowing  it." 

"  Well,  say  nothing  reproachfully  of  Gideon  ;  coward  or  not, 
he  is  of  too  much  use  to  us,  while  his  father  lives,  to  suffer  us 
to  complain  of  his  little  deficiencies.  The  old  man  is  no  cow 
ard,  that  is  clear,  and  would  go  as  heartily  into  a  fight  as  he 
goes  into  a  sermon.  He  would  fight  like  a  bull-dog.  The 
young  man  who  gave  Weston  his  quietus — you  are  sure  you 
shot  him  ?" 

"  If  aim  was  ever  good,  mine  was  upon  his  breast-button." 

"  Well,  it  is,  perhaps,  quite  as  well  that  it  is  all  over.  If  he's 
dead  it's  one  out  of  the  way  that  I  suspect  would  have  been 


CONFERENCE   BETWEEN    WHITE   AND    BLACK.  203 

very  troublesome  to  us ;  if  not,  as  old  Badger  would  tell  you, 
you  have  not  the  heavier  sin  to  answer  for.  But,  dead  or  alive, 
it  is  still  important  that  we  should  see  what  papers  he  carries ; 
we  must  see  what  beagles  are  down  in  the  governor's  catalogue 
Gideon  may  get  these  papers  without  much  risk ;  and  when 
there's  no  danger,  there  need  be  little  fear.  We  must  summon 
him  to-night." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A   GENUINE    WOMAN    AFTER    A    NATURAL    FASHION — THE    CON 
FERENCE    BETWEEN    BLACK    AND   WHITE. 

"  A  fair,  young,  modest  damsel  I  did  meet ; 
She  seemed  to  all  a  dove,  when  I  passed  by, 
And  I  to  all  a  raven.'* — THOMAS  Di 


THAT  night,  Gideon  Badger  encountered  Rachel  Morrison, 
his  cousin,  as  she  wandered  forth  into  the  shady  grove  of  forest- 
trees,  which  were  allowed  to  remain  at  the  clearing,  and  con 
ducted  from  the  house  into  the  garden.  The  youth  had  evi 
dently  placed  himself  in  waiting,  as  he  sprang  from  the  deep 
shadow  of  an  oak  at  her  approach,  and  presented  himself  before 
her.  She  started  at  sight  of  him,  with  a  feeling  of  mixed  indig 
nation  and  surprise.  Her  form,  rather  inclining  to  be  tall  and 
masculine,  seemed  to  rise  in  majesty  beyond  its  wont,  the  mo 
ment  she  recovered  from  her  partial  surprise ;  and  the  tones  of 
her  voice,  and  the  words  she  used,  at  once  indicated  a  condition 
of  quasi  warfare  between  them. 

"  Why  will  you  still  pursue,  still  oppress  me  in  this  manner, 
Gideon  Badger  ?" 

"Why  will  you  still  seek  to  avoid  me  in  this  manner,  Rachel 
Morrison  ?"  was  his  reply. 

"  If  it  be  true  that  I  seek  to  avoid  you,  you,  as  a  man,  should 
acorn  to  pursue  me.  Your  own  pride  should  preserve  me  from 
your  persecution,  even  if  your  sense  of  generosity  failed  you, 
Will  you  not  suffer  me  to  pass  ?" 


204  BORDEL    BEAGLES. 

"No!  not  yet — not  for  a  while!  I  would  speak  furthei 
with  you,  Rachel,  and  you  must  bear  with  my  persecutions  t 
little  longer,  for  a  very  good  reason." 

"  Let  me  know  the  reason,  Gideon  Badger ;  and  if  it  be  a 
good  one,  rest  assured  that  I  will  remain  and  hear  you  without 
reluctance.  Until  then,  you  must  forgive  me  if  I  say  I  hear 
you  with  little  pleasure." 

"  I  doubt  not  that,  Rachel,"  returned  the  young  man  gloomily, 
"  there  is  another  whose  speech  and  presence  have  ever  given 
you  more  pleasure  than  mine.  It  is  reason  enough  why  you 
should  remain,  that  you  can  not  so  easily  escape,  and  that  I  am 
resolved  that  you  shall  hear  me ;  and  yet,  I  would  that  you 
were  more  yielding  to  other  reasons,  which  are  enough,  not 
only  to  persuade  you  to  stay  and  hear,  but  to  do  so  with  pleas 
ure  and  content." 

"I  know  not  these,  Gideon  —  I  would  that  I  did!  Heaven 
knows  how  willingly  I  should  incline  my  ears  to  the  words  of 
one  so  dear  to  my  uncle  as  yourself !  But  you  well  know  what 
better  reasons  I  have  for  distrusting  your  speech  and  avoiding 
your  company." 

"  By  heavens,  Rachel,  but  you  do  me  wrong !  Because  of 
one  error — one  crime,  if  it  please  you  so  to  call  it — am  I  to 
forfeit  all  your  regard,  all  indulgence,  all  hope?  You  know 
that  I  have  broken  off  from  all  intimacy  with  the  man  Furst. 
From  that  moment  when  you  discovered  our  connection,  and 
the  offence  of  which  we  were  guilty,  I  promised  you,  and  my 
promise  has  been  kept  rigidly." 

"  And  yet,  Gideon,  the  fate  of  another  of  your  intimates 
alarms  me  —  this  unhappy  man,  Weston  !" 

"  Rachel,  Rachel !  can  it  be  that  you  would  couple  me  with 
that  robber  ?  Can  you  suppose  me  lost  to  all  reason,  as  well  as 
to  all  religion  ?  Can  it  be  that  you  hold  me  a  confederate  of 
this  unhappy  wretch,  when  you  know  that  I  have  not  been 
seen  with  him  for  months  ?" 

"You  have!"  was  her  stern  and  startling  reply,  to  the  warm 
and  earnest  asseverations  of  the  youth,  given  with  all  tLe  seem 
ing  unaffectedness  of  truth.  "  You  have  been  seen  with  him, 
Gideon,  within  three  weeks." 

"  Ha  !  who  says  it  ?  —  how  know  you  ?" 


CONFERENCE   BETWEEN    BLACK    AND   WHITE.  206 

"  Mother  Kerrison  saw  you  with  him  at  the  ferry,  three  weeks 
ago." 

"  Pshaw !  Rachel,  how  anxious  must  you  be  to  find  out  fault? 
in  me,  when  you  fall  upon  such  idle  tales  as  these.  For  that 
matter,  I  have  seen  the  man  almost  weekly  every  month  in  the 
past  year,  but  we  have  had  no  intimacy,  no  communion  'ogether 
—  we  have  been  in  no  wise  associated." 

"  Gideon,  there  again  I  must  oppose  the  testimony  of  a  third 
person  to  your  own.  Who  caught  those  fish  which  you  brought 
home  with  you  last  Saturday  was  a  week  ?" 

A  bitter  scowl  passed  over  the  countenance  of  the  youth  as 
he  replied : — 

44  Truly,  Rachel,  you  are  in  no  lack  of  spies  upon  my  actions. 
I  suppose  it  will  be  in  vain  to  deny  that  they  were  caught  by 
Weston." 

"  It  will,  indeed,  be  vain  to  deny  it,  Gideon,  and  my  good 
reasons  for  seeking  to  avoid  you,  arise  from  your  having  done 
so  already.  Your  father  was  under  the  persuasion  that  you 
caught  them  by  your  own  hands."  • 

"  I  never  told  him  so,"  said  the  young  man  hastily. 

"  No ;  but  your  words  justified  his  belief  that  such  was  the 
case,  and  he  spoke  of  your  success  in  fishing  to  your  own  ears, 
and  you  did  not  seek  to  set  him  right." 

"  And  I  am  successful  in  fishing,  Rachel,  and  his  compliments 
were  just  enough ;  as  for  my  statement  misleading  him,  I  can 
only  say  that  I  never  intended  it  should.  But  you  know,  I  see, 
that  the  fish  were  bought  from  Weston." 

"  I  know  that  you  got  them  from  him,  but  I  heard  that  they 
were  given  to  you." 

"  Now,  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  precious  in  a  spy,  what  old 
woman  could  have  told  you  this 7  —  Mother  Kerrison,  again?" 

"  It  was,  indeed,  no  other." 

"  That  old  hag  ought  to  be  carted  through  a  cane-brake,  and 
drawn  through  the  bog.  The  fish  were  bought  with  money, 
Bachel  Morrison,  and  I  trust  there's  no  more  harm  in  buying 
fish  from  a  man  that  turns  out  to  be  a  rogue,  than  in  buying 
them  from  the  best  citizen  in  the  county.  That  you  hate  me, 
Rachel,  is  sufficiently  clear  from  the  collection  of  authorities 
and  arguments  which  you  have  got  together  against  me." 


206  BORDER    BEAGLbb. 

"  Gideon,  God  knows,  and  you  ought  to  know,  that  I  have 
had,  in  the  kindness  of  your  father  to  the  poor  orphan  of  his 
brother's  wife,  every  reason  to  m.ike  me  try  to  love  and  to 
esteem  you ;  and  I  know,  however  little  you  may  be  disposed 
to  believe  it,  how  much  I  have  tried  to  love  you.  But  you 
have  not  suffered  me  to  do  this.  Your  own  wilfulness,  your 
harshness — shall  I  say  your  cold,  calculating  artfulness  of  con 
duct  in  relation  to  your  father,  myself,  and  others  —  but  your 
father  chiefly — have  baffled  the  desires  of  my  heart.  I  can 
not  love,  I  can  not  honor  you — nay,  I  can  not  look  on  you 
without  shrinking  and  shuddering — when  I  know  how  prone 
you  have  shown  yourself  to  speak  the  thing  which  is  not,  and 
to  do  the  thing  which  you  are  commanded  by  God  and  man 
not  to  do.  But,  if  these  reasons  were  not  wanting,  Gideon,  to 
make  me  desirous  to  shun  you,  there  were  others,  sufficient  for 
my  justification,  in  your  caprice  and  violence  of  temper.  You 
have  striven  to  use  me  as  your  plaything ;  you  have  tried  to 
abuse  my  ignorance  —  to  take  advantage  of  me  as  a  child;  and 
when  you  hav^  failed  in  this,  you  have  railed  at  me  in  ruffian 
ly  terms,  as  if  I,  too,  were  a  ruffian.  It  were  conclusive  against 
your  claim  to  manliness,  that  you  have  pursued  this  course  of 
conduct,  even  while  I  have  been  in  your  father's  house,  pro 
tected  by  his  favor,  and  almost  dependent  on  his  bounty.  Be 
assured,  Gideon  Badger,  that  it  was  in  my  necessity,  only,  that 
I  have  remained  and  endured  this  treatment  in  silence.  I  could 
not  have  done  so,  had  the  dwelling  of  any  other  relative  been 
open  to  my  entrance,  where  I  might  have  escaped  such  perse 
cution." 

"  Ay,  ay !  Rachel  Morrison,  this  is  all  very  strong,  and  very 
emphatic,"  said  the  youth,  with  mocking  bitterness ;  "  it  is,  as 
the  old  man,  my  venerable  father,  would  call  it,  a  searching 
and  soul-harrowing  discourse;  but  it  may  be  that  you  have 
still  left  unspoken  some  of  the  grounds  which  induced  your 
hatred  of  Gideon  Badger.'" 

"  I  hate  you  not,  Gideon,"  said  the  maiden,  mournfully. 
"  Alas  !  it  is  my  great  sorrow  that  you  will  not  suffer  me  to 
love  you." 

"  Nay,  nay,  Rachel !  these  sounds  do  not  delude  me.  As  I 
was  saying,  some  of  your  reasons  for  rating  me  so  humbly — io 


CONFEKENCE    BETWEEN    -  LACK    AND    WHITE.  207 

scornfully,  should  be  the  word  —  were  unexpressed.  You  love 
another,  Rachel  Morrison ;  you  love  this  swaggering  fellow, 
Rawlins  ;  deny  it,  if  you  can." 

"  I  seek  not  to  deny  it,  Gideon." 

"It  were  inlfein  to  do  so.  I  have  seen  you  together;  your 
heads  and  hands  mingling;  your  forms  linked  —  ay,  you  may 
well  shrink  and  blush  while  I  say  it,  Rachel  Morrison  —  your 
mutual  lips  glued  to  each  other,  as  if  they  were  never  more  des 
tined  to  undergo  separation." 

The  maiden  did  blush  at  the  description  of  those  scenes  of 
secret  tenderness  which  she  had  fancied  utterly  unseen  by  any 
eyes  but  those  of  Heaven,  and  which,  in  the  purity  of  her  heart 
and  its  emotions,  she  had  neither  shame  nor  scruple  that  Heaven 
should  behold;  but  when  her  accuser  spoke  of  her  blushes,  and 
counselled  her  to  shame,  her  lofty  spirit  rose  in  majesty,  her 
heart  swelled  with  the  pride  of  innocence,  her  form  dilated  in 
towering  beauty,  and  she  retorted  the  insolence  of  the  speaker 
with  well-deserved  scorn. 

"  And  if  I  blush,  Gideon  Badger,  at  these  scenes,  it  is  not 
because  they  have  been  witnessed,  but  that  such  as  you  should 
have  witnessed  them.  You,  without  sympathy  for  truth  or 
virtue,  would  only  mock  the  sincere  heart  by  your  jest,  or 
offend  it  by  your  presence.  A  noble  witness  had  gone  from  the 
spot  in  silence,  and  in  his  secret  soul  had  locked  up  the  remem 
brance  of  what  his  eyes  had  beheld  unwittingly.  Certainly,  lie 
would  never  have  labored  as  you  have  done,  to  make  a  woman 
regret  that  she  had  yielded  herself  to  those  feelings  which, 
while  they  are  pure  in  the  sight  of  God,  should  be  held  no  less 
sacred  in  the  sight  of  man.  To  Walter  Rawlins  I  am  pledged 
—  betrothed  —  it  needs  but  the  sanction  of  religion  to  make  us 
one.  We  are  already  one  in  spirit  and  in  truth  —  with  God's 
blessing  we  shall  soon  be  one  in  law." 

"Never,  never!"  cried  the  youth  impetuously,  with  choking 
accents,  and  the  fierce  gesticulation  of  one  threatening  an  enemy. 
"  Hear  me,  Rachel  Morrison,  you  shall  never  wed  this  man. 
One  or  both  of  us  shall  first  perish.  I  hate  him  now,  as  I  have 
ever  hated  him,  but  with  a  hatred  that  will  no  longer  brood  and 
slumber  over  baffled  hopes,  and  ineffectual  purposes.  If  you 
resolve  as  you  declare,  then  shall  my  equal  resolution  follow 


208  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

hard  upon  your  declaration.  Be  sure  that  no  peace  which  i 
can  disturb  shall  dwell  with  you  —  no  hope  that  I  can  banish 
shall  warm  your  dwelling  —  no  happiness  follow  your  marriage 
with  this  man.  Nay,  there  shall  be  no  security.  I  will  pursue 
you  to  the  uttermost  ends  of  the  earth,  but  I*frill  wrest  you 
from  his  grasp ;  I  will  pursue  him  to  the  uttermost  ends  of  the 
earth,  but  I  will  paralyze  his  embrace  ;  and,  if  I  can  not  triumph 
in  love,  at  least  I  will  do  so  in  the  exercise  of  the  most  despotic 
hate.  You  know  what  I  can  do — you  know  my  powers  and  my 
passions.  Beware  how  you  drive  me  to  desperation  —  beware 
how  you  compel  me  to  hate,  when  you  know  how  heartily  I 
can  love." 

"  And  know  me  also,"  replied  the  woman  with  tremuloas  but 
measured  and  subdued  accents,  "  know,  Gideon  Badger,  tha* 
you  can  no  more  terrify  Rachel  Morrison  than  yoU  can  terrify 
the  man  who  is  pledged  to  be  her  husband.  In  God  is  my 
trust,  and  with  a  proper  confidence  in  his  power  to  save,  I  biu, 
defiance  to  all  your  powers  to  wrong  and  to  destroy.  He  Lath 
strengthened  me  to  bear  with  many  afflictions,  with  poverty, 
with  evil  tongues  —  even  with  dangers  that  might  have  stricken 
and  destroyed  —  he  will  sustain  me  in  flight,  he  will  defend  me 
against  the  pursuer,  even  if  earthly  powers  should  not  avail  for 
my  protection.  Yet,  let  me  warn  you,  Gideon  Badger,  against 
this  evil  resolution.  A  word  from  me  to  Walter  Rawlins,  nr-d 
his  foot  were  upon  your  neck  the  instant  after  it  was  spoken." 

"  What !  would  you  so  soon  threaten  me  with  your  bully, 
Rachel  Morrison?  —  But  I  fear  him  not — " 

"  Enough  !"  she  exclaimed,  interrupting  the  further  cuurse  of 
his  insolent  speech  —  "let  us  part,  Gideon.  You  can  say  noth 
ing  more  that  can  move  me  now." 

"Nay,  Rachel  —  you  madden  me.  Why  provoke  me  thus 
when  you  know  my  passions?" 

"  Your  passions  shall  never  be  my  tyrants,  Gideon  Badger ; 
and  you,  who  know  so  well  how  to  conceal  them  in  the  presence 
of  your  father,  exhibit  but  a  poor  sort  of  manliness  when  you 
refuse  to  restrain  them  in  the  presence  of  a  woman.  Let  us 
separate,  since  it  seems  impossible  for  you  to  forbear  language 
which  it  gives  me  pain  to  hear.  Let  us  separate,  but  not  in 
anger.  I  forgive  you,  Gideon  :  and  if  there  be  one  thing  more 


CONFERENCE   BETWEEN    BLACK    AND    WHITE.  208 

productive  than  another  of  sorrow  in  my  heart,  it  is  that  you 
should  so  sinfully  and  perversely  cast  your  good  mind  and  better 
nature  beneath  the  trampling  foot  of  passions  which  first  de 
grade  and  afterward  destroy.  Why,  Gideon,  why  —  son  of  my 
second  father  —  why  will  you  profligately  cast  away  the  noblest 
gift  of  God,  the  noble  reason,  and  madden  thus  in  a  hopeless 
pursuit  of  that  which  it  is  beyond  your  power  to  procure  ?" 

"  Be  not  certain  of  that !  It  is  not  beyond  my  power,  Rachel 
Morrison  —  once  more  I  tell  you,  you  shall  never  wed  this  man." 

"  What  mean  you  ?  Twice,  Gideon,  have  you  spoken  in  this 
strange,  wild  manner.  Do  you  threaten  his  life  or  mine  ?  Can 
it  be  that  you  mean  to  murder  us  ?" 

"  Murder,  indeed  !"  he  responded  with  a  hollow  laugh.  "  Who 
said  that?  Not  I,  Rachel,  not  I — your  fancy  is  at  work,  and 
upon  this  slender  stock  you  will  get  up  a  pretty  tale  before 
morning.  No  !  no  !  I  have  no  design  to  murder  I  have  no 
idea  of  shedding  blood  ;  but — ha !" 

The  bay  of  the  beagle  arose  faintly  from  the  forest,  swelled 
over  the  garden,  and  tremblingly  fell  upon  their  ears  through 
the  umbrageous  tree-tops  that  sheltered  them  in  their  conference. 
A  pause  ensued,  broken  by  neither  for  an  instant.  He  then 
continued : — 

"Enough  for  warning,  Rachel  —  enough.  You  will  think 
upon  it  and  be  wise.  You  know  it  is  the  wish  of  my  father  that 
you  should  be  my  wife,  and  my  own  love  should  move  you  to 
yield  willingly  to  his  wishes." 

"  Your  love,  Gideon  Badger  !  Speak  of  the  love  of  the  storm 
for  the  flower  which  it  rends  in  its  rude  embrace; — speak  of 
the  love  of  the  ocean  for  the  poor  bark  which  it  swallows  up ; 
—  speak  of  anything  which  makes  a  sport,  a  victim,  of  the  ob 
ject  which  it  destroys,  and  you  then  speak  of  your  love  for  me. 
Your  passions,  not  your  love,  are  busy  in  all  this.  It  is  they 
who  would  be  my  master,  as  they  are  your  own.  But  they  never 
shall.  I  will  convince  you,  Gideon,  though  I  weep  for  you  with 
a  sad  sickness  of  heart  all  the  while,  that  when  you  are  most 
ungovernable  in  your  rage,  I  can  be  calm  and  unmoved  by  your 
fury  j  when  you  are  most  angry,  I  shall  be  least  moved ;  and 
when,  to  others  and  to  yourself,  you  seem  most  fearful,  then 
•hall  you  behold  the  orphan  of  your  father's  bounty  most  fear- 


210 


.Lhs>. 


less  and  secure.  I  praise  God  that  he  has  given  me  a  strength 
of  soul,  which  enables  me,  whatever  may  be  the  terror  and  the 
danger,  to  keep  in  the  way  which  my  heart  tells  me  is  right. 
With  this  consciousness,  you  can  not  affright  me,  you  can  no 
more  drive  me  from  my  resolution,  than  you  can  persuade  me 
from  the  truth." 

"  You  speak  boldly,  but  you  know  me  not.  The  time  will 
come  when  you  shall  know  more.  But  not  yet  —  not  now. 
Hark  !  I  hear  the  whistle  of  your  lover  —  he  is  summoning  you 
to  your  old  place  of  meeting.  Make  the  most  of  your  time, 
Rachel  Morrison,  for,  by  the  dim  lights  that  look  down  upon 
your  endearments,  they  are  destined  not  to  last." 

In  another  instant  the  maiden,  stunned  and  oppressed  with 
painful  emotions  and  troubling  fears,  found  herself  utterly  alone. 
Slowly  she  made  her  way  to  the  garden,  where,  in  a  little  time, 
she  was  joined  by  her  lover.  Gideon  Badger,  meanwhile,  leap 
ing  the  little  worm-fence  that  ran  along  the  lower  limits  of  the 
enclosure,  was  lost  from  view  in  the  forest,  where  his  own  voice, 
a  moment  after  the  woods  had  enshrouded  him,  might  have  been 
heard  in  responsive  echoes  to  those  mysterious  bay  ings  of  the 
beagle  which  had  summoned  him  to  a  meeting  of  his  confederates. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

THE    BIGID    MAGISTRATE — HOW   TO    BADGER    BEAGLES    AND 
SNARE    POXES. 

"Gentlemen  have  you  provided  me  here  half-a-dozen  sufficient  menf" 

SHAKSPERK. 

WITH  the  dawn  of  the  day  following,  the  traveller,  Wilson, 
with  his  two  daughters,  prepared  to  resume  their  journey.  The 
impatience  of  this  gentleman  seemed  to  grow  with  egch  moment 
of  delay,  and  the  protracted  exhortations  of  the  hospitable 
rnethodist,  who  proved  no  less  liberal  of  his  counsel  than  he  had 
shown  himself  of  his  meat,  contributed  to  heat  his  impatience 
into  fever.  Still,  though  perhaps  rather  from  the  promptings 
of  his  eldest  daughter  than  the  instigations  of  his  own  heart,  he 


THE   RIGID    MAGISTRATE.  211 

took  somo  pains  to  assure  himself  of  the  favorable  condition  of 
the  young  man  who  had  been  wounded  in  succoring  him  ;  and 
did  not  resolve  upon  his  journey,  or,  at  least,  did  not  commence 
his  visible  preparations  for  it,  until  he  learned  from  the  sober 
report  of  Badger,  and  the  no  less  credible  but  less  solemn  state 
ments  of  Rawlins,  that  Verrion's  hurts  were  not  such  as  could 
detain  him  more  than  a  day  in  his  chamber.  This  ascertained, 
he  bade  adieu  to  Zion's  Hill  and  his  friendly  entertainers,  and 
by  the  time  the  sun  had  fairly  purpled  the  green  tops  of  the 
forest,  he  was  speeding  fast  along  the  by-road  which  conducted 
to  Badger's,  and  which  he  had  taken  the  night  before  with  so 
much  unwillingness,  and  so  little  grace. 

It  was  some  hours  after  his  departure,  before  Vernon  awa 
kened  from  the  deep  sleep  into  which  he  had  been  thrown  by 
the  opiate  which  had  been  given  him  the  night  before.  Nor 
could  he  be  said  to  have  awakened  to  perfect  consciousness 
because  he  awakened  to  the  light.  The  stupifying  effect  of  thfi 
laudanum  benumbed  his  energies,  and  seemed  to  confuse  hia 
faculties  of  thought  and  observation.  A  sort  of  dreamy  con 
sciousness  of  what  had  taken  place,  in  which  all  things  floated 
incoherently  and  indistinctly  before  his  mental  vision,  disturbed 
the  certainty  of  his  conceptions ;  and  it  was  only  by  the  aid  of 
Rawlins,  who  sat  beside  his  couch  when  his  eyes  opened,  that 
he  recovered  the  knowledge  of  the  events  which  had  taken 
place  the  afternoon  before.  The  stiffness  of  his  wounded  limb, 
and  a  trembling  and  slightly  sore  sensation  about  the  spote 
which  were  hurt,  confirmed  so  much  of  the  particulars  as  related 
to  his  own  interest  in  the  conflict ;  and,  gradually  he  was  re 
minded  of  other  circumstances,  which  it  seemed  to  him  no  less 
important  that  he  should  know. 

He  had  an  indistinct  recollection  of  a  bright  vision  of  beauty 
which  had  hung  for  a  few  moments  above  his  eyes — a  vision 
such  as  had  been  vouchsafed  him  more  than  once  before,  in  a 
dream  no  less  sweet  and  inspiriting,  though  scarcely  so  distinct 
as  that  which  had  been  more  recent.  Then  came  the  passing 
consciousness  that  had  possessed  him  in  the  moment  when  he 
swooned  away,  of  his  having  found  the  person  of  the  escaping 
criminal  whom  he  sought  on  the  part  of  his  benefactor.  With 
this  returning  conviction,  his  faculties  grew  more  assured  and 


212  BORDER  BEAGLES. 

industrious,  and,  cautiously  concealing  his  great  interest  in  th6 
issue  of  his  inquiry,  he  proceeded  to  examine  his  companion 
on  the  subject  of  the  party  rescued. 

This  examination  tended  somewhat  to  confirm  the  impression 
which  he  had  received  the  evening  before,  that  William  Mait- 
land  actually  stood  before  him,  in  the  person  of  the  man  whom 
he  had  rescued ;  the  description  of  his  person,  as  given  him  by 
Bawlins,  strengthened  this  belief.  The  mere  difference  of 
name  was  a  small  and  trivial  obstacle,  and  one  readily  over 
come  by  a  reference  to  the  ease  with  which  a  name  might  be 
changed,  where  the  party  was  unknown ;  and  the  obvious  policy 
of  one  flying  from  justice,  to  effect  this  change  in  order  to 
avoid  detection.  The  greater  objection  to  his  conviction  lay  in 
the  two  daughters,  by  whom  Wilson  was  accompanied.  The 
elder  was  already  a  woman  grown  —  the  other,  nearly  in  her 
teens,  and  the  description  of  Carter  had  led  him  to  expect  mere 
children  in  the  daughters  of  Maitland. 

This  difficulty,  however,  upon  reflection,  seemed,  to  the  san 
guine  mind  of  Vernon,  scarcely  less  trivial  than  that  of  the 
name.  Carter  spoke  of  the  children  as  he  had  known  them, 
and  probably  with  some  reference  to  his  own  greater  age ;  and 
as  Vernon  threw  back  his  thoughts  to  the  period  when  Maitland 
practised  his  treachery  upon  his  friend,  and  married  Ellen 
Taylor,  the  probabilities  gained  strength,  as  he  found  that, 
allowing  them  to  have  had  children  within  a  reasonable  space 
of  time  after  marriage,  those  children  might  very  well  be  six 
teen  or  seventeen,  the  apparent  age  of  the  eldest  daughter  of 
the  traveller.  But  if  this  conclusion  gave  him  pleasure  in  one 
respect,  as  it  satisfied  him  that  the  means  of  retrieving  the 
fortunes  and  the  credit  of  his  patron  were  almost  in  his  grasp, 
he,  singularly  enough,  felt  some  reluctance  to  pursue  them, 
when  he  thought  of  the  misery  and  disgrace  which  exposure 
of  the  father  would  bring  upon  the  lovely  woman,  his  daughter 
whose  first  glance  had  so  impressed  itself  upon  his  fancy. 

The  matter  would  have  seemed  easy  enough  to  provide  for  the 
children,  as  such,  who,  at  the  tender  years  of  childhood,  could 
not  well  have  been  conscious  of  the  shame  which  would  neces 
sarily  follow  the  detection  of  the  father.  But  the  case  became 
wonderfully  different  and  diilicuit  when  the  child  was  a  woman 


THE   RIGID   MAGISTRATE. 

--and  such  a  woman  —  having,  without  doabt  sensibilities 
/ceen  and  quickening,  such  as  are  proper  to  her  sex ;  and  a 
consciousness  of  shame  corresponding  with  that  intelligence, 
which,  without  any  other  knowledge  than  lay  in  his  own  en 
dowing  fancy,  he  assumed  must  belong  to  such  lovely  and 
speaking  features,  as  those  which  looked  down  upon  him  in  his 
moments  of  lapsing  consciousness.  How  could  he  pursue,  with 
out  relenting,  the  father  of  such  a  woman  ?  how  could  he,  as 
the  stern  minister  of  justice  —  in  fact,  the  sheriff's  agent,  with  a 
special  power  to  place  fetters  upon  his  limbs  —  how  could  he 
drag  that  old  man,  felon  though  he  was,  from  the  presence  of 
that  daughter?  He  felt  that  she  would  rise  between  him  and 
his  victim  —  the  rebuking,  the  imploring,  the  preserving  angel; 
that  her  tears  would  be  his  reproach  ;  her -sorrows,  his  sentence 
of  condemnation ;  and  he  felt,  even  then,  that  her  hate  to  the 
oppressor  of  her  father,  would  be  a  something  beyond  his  best 
ability  to  bear.  But  when,  on  the  other  hand,  he  thought  of 
Carter  —  his  patron,  his  only  father  —  the  sterner  commands  of 
duty  —  the  earnest  voice  of  soliciting  gratitude  —  spoke  another 
language  to  his  better  judgment. 

"  I  must  do  my  duty,"  he  murmured  to  himself  as  he  strove 
feebly  to  rise  from  the  couch  ;  "  it  must  be  done.  Rawfins,  my 
good  fellow,  help  me  to  put  myself  in  trim,  for  I  feel  very  stiff 
and  stupid.  I  must  get  up  :  I  must  see  this  gentleman." 

"  What  gentleman  ?"  said  Rawlins 

"  Mr.  Wilson ;  the  gentleman  we  helped  yesterday.  Did 
you  not  tell  me  that  he  came  with  us — that  he  brought  me 
here  I" 

"  Ay,  but  he  cleared  out  by  sunrise  this  morning.  He  was 
in  a  monstrous  hurry  to  be  off,  and  would  have  gone  before 
daylight,  if  't wasn't  for  that  angel  creature,  his  daughter.  She 
told  him  mighty  plain  that  'twouldn't  do  for  them  to  go  till  the) 
know'd  that  you  were  safe." 

"  Ha !     Did  she  say  that  ?" 

"  I  heard  her  with  my  own  ears,  though  she  didn't  know  I 
was  nigh.  I  was  coming  in  at  the  entry-door  leading  to  the 
shed,  and  her  back  was  to  me  all  the  time.  She  said  a  good 
deal  more  which  I  couldn't  make  cut,  but  I  understood  enough 
vx>  see  that  she  was  blaming  him  for  his  hard-hearted  way  nf 


214  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

making  thanks  for  the  help  he  got  from  us  — not  to  speak  of 
my  help  in  the  business,  for  it  was  mostly  yours.  Yet  she  didn't 
leave  me  out,  she  spoke  to  me  herself  about  it,  and  told  me 
how  her  father  owed  everything  to  us,  and  how  I  must  tell  you 
this  when  you  got  better.  Well,  they  waited,  as  she  said  they 
must,  till  Billy  Badger  felt  your  pulse,  and  looked  at  your  face 
—  and  he  looked  long  enough  and  felt  long  enough  to  have  an 
swered  for  all  the  sick  men  in  Massissippi.  When  he  told  them 
that  you'd  do  well  enough  without  any  more  doctoring,  I  never 
saw  a  girl  more  relieved.  She  didn't  say  anything  then,  but  tied 
the  bonnet  on  her  sister,  and  went  jist  as  the  old  gentleman  told 
her ;  but  I  saw  a  big  drop  in  her  eyes  as  she  was  going,  and  her 
last  words  were  to  me,  remembering  me  to  tell  you  what  she  said, 
and  how  sorry  she.  was  that  her  father's  business  made  him 
hurry  away,  so  that  he  couldn't  say  for  himself  how  much  they 
thanked  you.  She's  a  most  notable  fine  girl,  I'm  thinking,  as 
ever  I  looked  upon." 

Vernon  derived  a  greater  degree  of  gratification  from  this  de 
tail  of  his  companion,  than  the  long,  rambling  sentences  of  Raw- 
lins  were  usually  apt  to   afford  him.     But  though  he  lingered 
over  the  narrative  with  a  silent  pleasure,  he  did  not  forego  his 
purpose  of  rising  from  his  couch  of  inactivity,  and  of  pursuing 
the  task  which  he  had  too  deliberately  and  resolutely  underta 
ken  to  forego  without  shame.    The  rapid  haste  of  Wilson  tended 
to  confirm  him  in  the  belief  that  it  was  Maitland  that  he  pur 
sued  ;  and  when  he  recollected  the  liberal  and  large  extent  of 
the  commission  which  had  been  entrusted  to  his  hands,  the  dis 
cretion  which  it  empowered  him  to  exercise  in  the  case  of  the 
absconding  criminal,  and  the  ease  with  which,  under  its  indul 
gent  privileges,  he  might  obtain  his  object  without  any  public 
exposure  of  the  victim — nay,  even  without  a  revelation  of  the 
crime  to  the  innocent  daughter  of  the  criminal  —  he  found  him 
self  strengthened  for  the  duty,  and  eager  once  more  for  its  re 
sumption.     But  he  rose  with  some  increase  of  pain.     The  limb 
which,  in  his  quiescent  state,  was  tolerably  easy,  now  throbbed 
painfully  with  the  weight  and  pressure  of  his  frame  upon  it; 
and  having,  with  the  assistance  of  his  friend  Ruwlins,  reached 
the  hall  where  the  family  were  assembled,  he  found  himself  com 
pelled  to  appropriate  the  calico-covered  sofa  to  its  whole  extent, 


THE    RIGID    MAGISTRATE  215 

in  the  hope  to  regain  that  position  of  quiet  which  he  nad  found 
before  in  his  couch. 

In  this  effort,  and  while  enjoying  the  returning  ease  which  it 
brought  him,  he  was  no  doubt  greatly  strengthened  and  assisted 
by  the  consoling  review  of  his  situation,  and  the  circumstances 
attending  it,  which  his  ghostly  landlord,  in  his  own  measured 
manner,  presented  to  his  mind.  According  to  this  venerable 
eider,  his  hurt  was  a  subject  of  self-congratulation,  which  should 
not  be  suffered  to  escape  his  own  commentary.  He  was  one  of 
those  who,  regarding  evils  as  masked  benefits,  looked  upon  Ver- 
non  as  particularly  fortunate  in  the  favor  of  Providence,  and 
rated  the  extent  of  his  good  by  the  degree  of  dissatisfaction  and 
impatience  which  the  victim  displayed  beneath  it.  Having  ex 
hausted  all  the  proverbial  forms  of  biblical  and  mere  moral 
expression  on  the  subject,  he  proceeded  to  a  display  of  his  own 
ixperience ;  and,  if  his  judgment  might  have  been  regarded  as 
squally  valuable  with  his  ftfith,  it  would  have  appeared  con 
vincing  enough  to  his  hearers  that  lie  had  never  yet  suffered  an 
affliction  which  had  not  in  its  ultimate  consequences  been  a  real 
Messing,  infinitely  beyond  any  other  which,  in  its  absence,  might 
have  fallen  to  his  lot. 

His  voluminous  history,  fortunately  for  Vernon,  had  its  own 
interest,  apart  from  the  savory  Christian  deductions  which  the 
narrator  never  failed  to  make  from  all  its  leading  details ;  and 
if  the  youth  was  not  greatly  enlightened  and  strengthened  in 
moral  respects  by  what  he  heard,  he  was  certainly  edified, 
amused,  and  sometimes  excited,  by  adventures  on  "field  and 
flood,"  in  forest  and  prairie,  in  which,  like  one  half  of  the  set 
tlers  of  Mississippi,  William  Badger  had  proved  the  possession 
of  a  manly  soul  and  strength,  contending  with  savage  beasts 
and  forests,  and  not  unfrequently  with  more  savage  men.  But 
for  these  details,  which  gave  action  and  vitality  to  the  old  man's 
prosing,  Vernon  might  have  made  his  retreat  in  utter  despera 
tion  ;  but  he  bore  it  with  becoming  fortitude,  until  relieved  by 
more  exciting  details,  which  put  a  stop  to  those  of  the  metho 
dic,  and  sent  all  parties  to  new  subjects  of  cogitation  and  remark. 

The  dinner  hour  had  arrived,  and  the  family  had  already 
taken  their  places  around  the  table ;  Rachel  presiding,  opposite 
to  the  uncle;  on  one  hand,  Rawlins,  on  the  other,  Gideon 


216  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

Badger,  as  demure,  while  in  the  presence  of  the  fattier,  as  the 
most  worthy  of  the  congregation.  Vernon  was  indulged  with  a 
small  table  beside  the  sofa  on  which  he  lay,  upon  which  was 
placed  some  thin  soup  and  a  few  well-boiled  fragments  of  chick 
en,  such  being  thought  the  least  hurtful  diet  for  an  invalid.  Wil 
liam  Badger  had  already  commenced  that  interminable  grace 
before  meat,  which  Rawlins,  after  the  fashion  of  his  own  wit, 
had  styled  "the  dinner  cooler,"  when  a  bustle  was  heard  at  the 
door,  as  of  one  about  to  enter,  and  the  tones  of  a  voice  which 
Rawlins  immediately  recognised  as  that  of  Edward  Mabry,  the 
youth  whose  fight  with,  and  pursuit  of,  young  Horsey,  ha* 
already  been  recorded. 

"  It's  Edward  Mabry,"  said  Rawlins,  looking  up  from  his 
plate  as  he  perceived  from  the  pause  which  William  Badger 
made  in  his  grace,  that  the  interruption  had  reached  his  ears. 
But,  as  if  resolved  that  no  intrusion  ought  to  put  a  stop  to  the 
wholesome  preliminary  services  in* which  he  was  engaged,  with 
a  devotedness  which  most  persons  of  good  appetite  would  have 
preferred  paying  to  the  dinner  itself,  he  resumed  his  prayer 
just  where  it  had  been  arrested  : — 

"  — Thy  divine  countenance,  0  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  sanctify 
to  us  the  food  which  is  now  before  us — "  and  so  he  proceeded 
to  the  end,  without  further  notice  of  the  events  going  on  around 
him,  though,  in  the  meanwhile,  Edward  Mabry,  with  more 
haste  than  was  consistent,  either  with  the  solemn  visage,  rigid 
habits,  or  grave  ceremony  of  the  host,  rushed  into  the  apartment. 

His  audacity  did  not  venture  to  go  farther  when  he  found  in 
what  manner  the  venerable  elder  was  engaged ;  and  standing 
apart,  with  hat  in  hand,  he  waited,  breathless  and  impatient, 
until  the  grace,  which  seemed  to  expand  even  beyond  its  ordi 
nary  limits,  was  brought  to  the  conclusion.  The  "  amen"  was 
scarcely  uttered  before  the  torrent  burst  its  barriers. 

"Mr.  Badger,  Mr.  Badger,"  said  the  young  man,  "I  come  for 
a  warrant  —  take  up  a  villain  —  enough  to  hang  him  —  shall  do 
it.  Must  grant  a  warrant,  and  send  Harvey  out  this  very  even 
ing.  Only  sorry  I  didn't  come  to  you  before.  But  it's  not  too 
late  —  never  too  late  to  hang  a  rascal,  and  a  warrant  this  even 
ing  will  answer — a  warrant  to  Harvey.  I'm  ready  to  sweat 
ag'in  him  any  moment." 


THE   RIGID    MAGISTRATE.  217 

"A  warrant,  Ned!"  exclaimed  Rawlins. 

"A  warrant !"  echoed  Gideon  Badger,  with  rather  more  ner 
rousness  than  the  occasion  seemed  to  call  for;  and  even  the 
usually-composed  maiden,  Rachel  Morrison,  could  not  forbear 
the  like  exclamation. 

"A  warrant !" 

"Ay,  a  warrant!  —  a  warrant  against  John  Yarbers,  Mr 
Badger  —  he's  a  villain,  a  thief — he's  the  man  that  helped  to 
run  Joe  Watson's  horse,  and  I  can  prove  that  he  put  him  in  the 
hands  of  Bill  Munson,  the  fellow  that  got  off  last  month  from 
Deputy  Nichols.  I'm  ready  to  take  my  affidavy  to  it." 

The  methodical  lips  of  William  Badger  at  length  parted. 
His  face  put  on  new  terrors,  his  words  were  stern,  and  the  tone 
threatening. 

"  Young  man,"  he  said,  regarding  the  disfigured  visage  of  the 
intruder  rather  than  the  tale  which  he  told,  "  young  man,  you 
have  been  fighting." 

The  youth  muttered  some  hasty  words,  in  which  "honor"  — 
"impudent  fellow"  —  "had  to  fight,"  were  strangely  jumbled 
up  with  other  less  significant  syllables,  but  the  ascetic  elder  cut 
short  the  worthless  pretext  in  a  fashion  of  his  own. 

"  Edward  Mabry,  have  I  not  repeatedly  counselled  you  against 
this  brutal  and  blackguard  practice  1  Have  I  not  repeatedly 
told  you  that  I  care  not  to  see  you  in  my  dwelling  so  long  as 
yo'i  can  not  forbear  the  rending  and  gouging  of  your  neighbors." 

"  I  come  about  business,  Mr.  Badger,"  said  the  other,  sulki 
ly  ;  "  I  come  about  business ;  I  come  to  you  as  a  justice,  I  don't 
come  as  a  visiter." 

"  And  I  speak  to  you  as  a  justice ;  and  had  I  caught  you, 
sir,  in  the  brutal  act,  I  should,  as  a  justice,  have  had  you  taken 
and  punished;  though,  to  be  sure,  you  seem  to  have  had  some 
thing  more  than  your  usual  share  of  punishment  already.  God  has 
seen  fit  to  send  you  a  foe  who  could  imprint  on  you  those  marks 
which  you  are  but  too  apt  to  put  upon  the  faces  of  others  ;  upon 
faces,  Edward  Mabry,  made  after  God's  own  blessed  image.  It 
is  his  image  that  you  tear,  and  bruise,  and  gouge,  with  a  most 
miserable  propensity  to  sin.  But  sit  you  down  —  why  stanc1 
you  in  waiting  when  the  meat  is  sanctified  and  ready  ?  Sit  you 
down  and  partake  with  us.  young  man,  though  it  grieves  and 

1C 


218  BORDER    HEACJLKS. 

sickons  UK-  t«»   hdiohl    you    in    this   coiulition.      Rachel,  set   a 
plate." 

44  I'm  not  hungry,"  replied  the  youth,  with  no  abatement  of 
his  "sullenness ;  for  the  reference  which  Badger  had  made  to  the 
superiority  of  his  enemy,  had  irritated  an  old  sore  —  "I'm  not 
hungry,  1  thank  God  !  Mr.  Badger  ;  since  if  I  \va?,  I  could  not 
sit  down  at  a  man's  table  when  he  don't  wish  to  see  me  in  his 
house." 

"  There  is  hope  of  you,"  was  the  cool  reply  of  the  methodist, 
"so  ^ong  as  you  have  the  grace  to  thank  God  for  anything. 
Sit  you  down,  I  say,  whether  hungry  or  not,  and  wait  on  those 
\\ho  are.  As  a  magistrate,  I  will  hear  your  statement,  and  take 
your  oath,  if  need  be,  when  you  have  dined  ;  but  I  warn  you 
Edward  Mabry,  that  an  oath  is  a  serious  and  solemn  invoca 
tion  ;  the  Lord  is  spiritually  present  when  it  is  taken  ;  it  is  an 
awful  and  soul-binding,  and  soul-responsible  assurance.  Be 
ware,  then,  that  you  swear  not  against  your  neighbor,  unless 
with  a  perfect  certainty,  so  far  as  the  blindness  of  human  sense 
and  judgment  may  admit -of  certainty,  that  what  you  say  is  the 
truth.  But  sit  you  down  and  eat.  Gideon  Badger,  help  Ed 
ward  Mabry  to  some  of  the  chicken  which  is  before  you.  Eat, 
r- Walter  Rawlins.  And  so,  Edward  Mabry,  you  are  certain  that 
it  was  Yarbers  who  run  the  horse  ?" 

"  Caught  him  a-doing  it,  sir.  But  that  ain't  all ;  there's  an 
other  business  more  serious.  I  have  a  strong  notion  that  I 
can  prove  he's  been  talking  insurrection  stuff  among  the  nig 
gers." 

"  That  is  a  dreadful  crime,  Edward  Mabry,  and  I  could  wish 
that  you  spoke  not  such  suspicions  aloud,  until  you  have  strong 
proof  of  their  truth.  If  I  remember  rightly,  it  is  now  near  a 
month  since  Joseph  Watson  recovered  the  horse  which  had 
been  stolen." 

"Yes,  sir  ;  about  a  month." 

"  Ah  !  and  you  knew  the  fact  at  the  time.  You  knew  when 
the  robbery  was  committed  1" 

"  'Twas  I  caught  Yarbers  with  the  animal,  making  tracks  foi 
Vicksburg." 

"  And  wherefore  have  you  kept  this  thing  hidden  so  long, 
Edward  Mabry  1  Why  have  you  forborne  to  bring  this  evil- 


THE  uu;i,>   ,;.:,,;.-,  ;;  .  ri;;  219 

doer  to  punishment  before  tins?  And  why  is  it,  tliat.  having 
suppressed  the  truth  so  long,  you  now  declare  it  in  the  unbe 
coming  language  of  human  passion  ?  Answer  me  these  ques 
tions,  Edward  Mabry.  for  something  of  my  conduct  will  depend 
upon  the  explanation  which  you  may  now  give  of  yours." 

These  were  home  questions,  and  the  effort  to  answer  them 
only  involved  the  speaker  in  all  the'  meshes  of  a  seemingly  in 
extricable  confusion.  It  was  only  by  piecemeal,  and  after  the 
most  Socratic  examination,  that  the  keen,  searching,  old  meth 
od  ist  obtained  all  the  facts,  and  came  to  the  conclusion,  that, 
but  for  a  quarrel  between  the  parties,  the  horse-stealing,  and 
other  offences  of  John  Yarbcrs,  might  have  been  buried  in  utter 
oblivion,  so  far  as  the  testimony"  of  Edward  Mabry  was  con 
cerned.  In  brief,  the  party  was  soon  apprized  that  Mabry, 
whose  attachment  to  Mary  Clayton  was,  like  most  attachments 
of  country-lovers,  known  to  all  the  neighborhood,  had,  after 
fruitlessly  pursuing  the  actor  to  the  river  without  overtaking 
him,  returned  with  a  double  feeling  of  wrath  and  mortification 
to  his  own  home.  From  thence  he  had  gone,  early  the  next 
morning,  to  the  house  of  Yarbers,  and  there  had  pressed  his 
claim,  in  the  absence  of  the  latter,  to  the  hand  of  his  daughter- 
in-law.  He  had  done  this  quite  as  much  in  anger  as  in  love, 
being  resolved  to  bring  tjie  matter  to  a  close,  as  he  found  him 
self  unable  to  bear  the  continual  anxiety  and  passionate  strifes 
to  which  his  position  exposed  him  ;  and  he  did  not,  in  fact,  be 
lieve  that  he  was  entirely  wanting  in  attraction  to  the  eyes  of 
the  damsel. 

But  he  made  his  application  at  the  worst  possible  moment. 
The  calculating  mother  and  uncalculating  daughter  had  but 
too  recently  parted  with  the  gay  and  attractive  actor,  and  he 
met  with  a  flat  rejection  from  both,  the  terms  of  which,  on  the 
part  of  Mrs.  Yarbers,  were  uttered  in  a  manner  nowise  compli 
mentary  to  the  pride  and  vanity  of  the  suitor. 

Burning  with  indignation,  he  rushed  from  the  house,  only  to 
encounter  John  Yarbers  at  the  entrance.  To  him  he  breathed, 
without  stint  or  limit,  the  indignation  which  he  felt ;  and  his 
rage  was  complete  when  the  husband  simply  and  civilly  con 
fessed  that  he  had  no  power  to  alter  the  decision  of  his  wife. 
Yarbers  was  rather  nonchaJant  in  his  treatment  of  Mabry,  for 


220  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

he  had  just  before  had  the  assurance-  of  the  master-spirit,  Saxon, 
that  the  thing  should  be  settled  in  such  a  manner  as  to  save 
him  harmless;  but  he  begged  Mabry  to  wait  awhile  longer, 
and  concluded  —  having  a  reference  to  some  crude  and  half- 
digested  plan  of  Saxon  —  by  recommending  that  Mabry  should 
contrive  to  get  himself  made  colonel ;  a  vacancy  then  existing 
in  the  regiment  by  the  death  of  the  late  celebrated  Colonel 
Quill inan.  To  the  raging  Mabry,  this  seemed  little  less  than 
downright  mockery  ;  and,  without  further  exchange  of  words, 
he  put  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  took  the  road  to  the  house  of  the 
justice  of  Zion's  Hill.  The  progress  of  the  visiter  in  this  quar 
ter  has  so  far  been  narrated.  Taking  the  magistrate  apart, 
Walter  Eawlins  ventured  to  excuse  Mabry 's  suppression  of  the 
facts  so  long,  by  taking  upon  himself  a  portion  of  the  blame. 

"As  the  thing's  out,  now,  Mr.  Badger,  though  to  my  think 
ing  it  had  been  better  in  for  a  while  longer,  even  though  John 
Yarbers  got  quite  off,  why,  I  may  as  well  up  and  tell  you,  sir, 
that  I  advised  Ned  Mabry  to  keep  the  matter  quiet." 

"And,  pray,  what  may  have  been  your  reasons,  Walter 
Rawlins,  for  thus  seeking  to  screen  the  criminal  from  the  hands 
of  justice  ?" 

"  Only  that  the  hands  of  justice  might  get  a  good  gripe  when 
she  tried  for  it,"  was  the  prompt  reply  of  the  woodman.  Then, 
proceeding  with  some  rapidity,  as  he  saw  that  his  further  treat 
ment  of  the  figure  was  regarded  with  a  grave  countenance  by 
the  methodist,  he  went  on'  to  give  certain  reasons  and  facts  for 
the  policy  which  he  had  pursued. 

"  You  must  know,  Mr.  Badger,  that  there  are  more  persons 
than  John  Yarbers  concerned  in  this  trade  of  horse-stealing, 
and  it  isn't  the  one  mare  of  Joe  Watson  that's  been  cleared 
out  by  'em  in  my  time.  We  happen  to  know  of  many  horses 
that's  been  lost  to  their  owners,  that  John  Yarbers  found  a 
claim  in;  and  we  sort  o*  concluded  —  me,  and  Tom  Coleman, 
Jack  Andrews,  and  Ned  Mabry,  here  —  that,  as  we  knew  all 
that  any  did  know,  and  as  that  wasn't  enough  to  clinch  any  but 
John  Yarbers,  that  we'd  say  nothing  for  a  while,  and  only  keep 
a  sharp  look-out,  and  be  in  readiness  to  find  out  the  rest.  We 
all  considered  Yarbers  to  be  a  poor  shoat,  that  only  did  as  others 
told  him.  We  had  suspicions  of  three  other  men  that  took  the 


THE    RIGID    MAGISTRATE.  221 

horses,  after  Yarbers  had  run  'em  to  the  river,  and  carried  'em 
on  from  hand  to  hand,  till  they  got  'em  where  they  could  sell 
'em  without  danger  of  being  known  ;  and  we  thought,  by  keep 
ing  quiet  about  Yarbers,  and  watching  him  close,  that  we  might 
get  on  a  trail  that  would  lead  us  to  the  other  rascals.  Yarbcrs 
don't  dream,  to  this  day,  that  anybody  but  Ned  Mabry  knows 
about  his  rascality.  Ned  caught  him  with  the  horse  hobbled  ; 
and  his  liking  for  Yarbers'  wife's  daughter  made  him  very 
willing  to  say  nothing,  till  now,  about  the  dad.  He  told  me 
only  because  we  were  so  friendly,  and  he  knew  I  could  keep  a 
close  mouth  over  any  secret  " 

"You  have  done  wrong;  you  should  have  brought  this  man 
to  justice.  The  law  is  the  terror  to  evil-doers,  and  they  should 
be  made  to  feel  it !  And  who,  Walter  Rawlins,  are  the  men  of 
whom  you  have  suspicions  ?" 

"  Well,  squire,  I  can't  tell  you  that,  seeing  that  I've  made  a 
promise  not  to  do  so  until  there's  a  good  chance  to  clinch  'em, 
and  we  get  good  witnesses.  I'm  sort  of  dubious  it'll  be  a  mighty 
tough  business  whenever  the  time  comes." 

"  And  what,  Walter  Rawlins,  may  be  the  reason  of  this  fear?" 
said  the  magistrate,  with  increasing  severity  of  tone  and  solem 
nity  of  look,  his  self-esteem  being  grievously  disturbed  by  the 
refusal  of  the  woodman  to  confide  to  him  the  extent  of  his 
knowledge. 

"  Because,  squire,  we've  good  reasons  for  thinking  these  ras 
cals  are  backed  by  a  great  number  that  pass  for  honest  men  and 
good  Christians ;  and  up  to  this  time,  squire,  we're  at  a  loss  to 
say  which  is  which  among  our  acquaintance  and  those  that  put 
on  religion,  and  talk  very  good  things  at  meeting.  Every  now 
and  then  there's  a  robbery,  now  on  this,  and  now  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Big  Black,  but  at  all  times  too  mighty  nigh  us  not 
to  make  it  very  strange  of  the  sort  of  folks  that  live  about. 
There  was  Dick  Goby  robbed  of  his  watch  and  all  he  had,  com 
ing  from  Benton  a  week  ago,  by  two  men  in  disguise;  and  there 
was  the  beating  that  Harvey  got  up  by  Doak's  stand,  about  the 
same  time,  by  other  men  in  disguise,  while  he  was  on  his  way 
to  sarve  your  warrant;  then,  again,  this  attack  on  the  old  gen 
tleman,  Mr.  Wilson,  here,  as  I  may  say,  in  sight  of  Zion's  Hill 
why,  squire,  you  can't  shut  your  eyes  to  the  thing.  It's  clear 


222  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

as  noonday  that  there's  a  gang  of  rascals  that  stand  by  eacr 
other,  and  ain't  afraid  of  the  worst  that  can  be  done  to  them. 
Besides,  I'm  somehow  thinking,  squire,  that  there's  nothing  you 
rcan  do,  or  any  magistrate,  that  they  won't  get  wind  of,  in  a 
mighty  short  time  after  you  do  it." 

Rawlins  did  not  confine  himself  to  this  brief  array  of  circum 
stances  to  establish  the  probability  of  the  faith  that  was  in  him. 
He  proceeded  to  the  detail  of  other  events,  some  of  which  were 
known  to  the  magistrate  and  others  new ;  but  the  accumulation 
of  facts  had  the  effect  of  convincing  and  startling  the  methodist, 
when,  one  by  one,  as  they  occurred,  they  would  have  made 
little  impression,  and  that  of  little  duration,  upon  his  mind. 

"  Verily,  Walter  Rawlins,  thou  hast  shown  me  these  things 
in  stronger  lights  than  they  have  come  to  me  before.  It  is  a 
shame  and  a  discredit  to  me,  as  a  magistrate  under  the  appoint 
ment  of  man,  and  no  less  as  an  humble  follower  of  Christ  Jesus, 
that  these  things  should  be  suffered  to  go  on  around  me.  It 
were  well  to  get  the  young  men  together,  and  bestir  ourselves 
in  the  examination  of  this  swamp  which  is  beside  us ;  for  that, 
according  to  my  thought  no  less  than  thine,  must  be  the  place 
in  which  these  villains  harbor.  How  many  young  men  canst 
thou  muster  at  blowing  of  the  horn  ?" 

"  Well,  squire,  I  reckon  there  may  be  ten  or  thereabouts," 
icturned  the  woodman,  muttering  their  names  over  to  himself, 
and  counting  upon  his  fingers  as  he  spoke. 

«  Ten  ! — ten  only  !  Why,  Walter,  either  I  lose  my  arithme 
tic,  or  you  have  never  yet  found  yours.  By  what  rule  can  you 
count]  Instead  of  ten,  there  may  be  twenty,  nay,  thirty, 
mustered  by  the  horn  blowing." 

"  Yes,  squire,  but  it  ain't  by  horn-blowing  that  I  would  bring 
together  the  men  for  such  a  business  as  this.  Some  of  the  men 
that  would  come  at  horn-blowing  would  be  more  likely  to  help 
the  rascals  than  to  hurt  them ;  and  if  I  could  tell  you  some  of 
the  suspicionable  names  that  I  know  on,  you'd  look  green 
again." 

"  I  can  not  say,  Walter  Rawlins,  that  I  altogether  understand 
you  when  you  speak  of  my  looking  green  again;  but,  at  all 
events,  I  will  look  farther  and  immediately  into  this  business. 
I  will  confer  with  this  young  man,  Vernon,  who  speaks  sensibly 


THE    FOXKS    IN    COUNCIL.  li-G 

on  most  subjects,  and  he  hath  shown  himself  bold  enough  to  be 
a  leader  in  any  strife  that  may  follow,  and  is  surely  not  to  be 
suspected  of  any  connection  with  these  outlaws  of  whom  you 
speak.  If  he  will  go  forth  with  us,  it  were  something  ;  for  thou 
and  thy  ten  men  would  go  but  a  little  way  to  compass  all  the 
points  of  the  swamp,  and  beleaguer  those  who  harbor  therein. 
The  canebrake  were,  alone,  a  sufficient  protection.  But  let  us 
seek  these  other  youths.  We  havo  already  five  in  this  dwel 
ling,  counting  myself  and  Gideon  Badger  with  the  rest,  and  I 
trust  in  God  that  when  the  hour  of  evil  strife  shall  come,  there 
will  be  fifty  rather  than  ten  willing  to  gather  together  for  the 
good  of  the  covenant." 


CHAPTER   XX 

THE    FOXES    IN    COUNCIL  —  TERRIBLE     DISCOVERY  —  A    WOMAN'S 
STRENGTH. 

"  We  are  not  grown  so  proud 
As  to  disdain  familiar  conference." — MASSINGER 

BAWLINS  was  not  altogether  satisfied  that  the  method ist 
should  take  the  business  so  completely  out  of  his  hands,  but  he 
well  knew  that  there  was  no  hope  of  successful  resistance 
against  the  usurpation.  The  self-esteem  of  William  Badger* 
was  well-sustained  by  the  firm  rigidity  of  his  character,  and  the 
perfect  unconsciousness  of  anything  like  presumption  in  the 
(ead  which  he  was  resolved  to  take.  The  woodman  shrugged 
'iis  shoulders,  therefore,  and  said  nothing ;  congratulating  him 
self  that  he  had  kept  the  suspected  names  to  himself,  and  inly 
determining  to  continue  his  own  plans,  which,  though  less  dig 
nified  and  imposing  that  those  of  the  senior,  yet  promised  to 
be,  for  that  very  reason,  far  more  effective.  He  followed  the 
squire  into  the  saUe  a  manger,  where  the  young  men  had  been 
left,  and  where  he  found  them  busily  engaged  in  the  discussion 
of  sundry  subjects,  all  of  which  were  necessarily  made  to  give 
way  to  that  wMch  was  always  the  most  important  to  William 


224  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

Badger  —  that,  namely,  which  most  interested  himself.  The 
tatter  proceeded,  as  if  from  his  own  knowledge  and  thought  — 
for  he  made  no  sort  of  reference  to  Rawlins  in  the  progress  of 
his  narrative  —  to  give  the  substance  of  what  he  had  heard,  to 
describe  the  evil  condition  of  the  neighborhood,  and  to  expa 
tiate  upon  the  necessity  of  gathering  the  young  men  together 
for  the  purpose  of  routing  the  evildoers. 

Vernon  heard  him  with  a  degree  of  pleasure  and  interest 
which  he  found  it  not  so  easy  to  suppress ;  but  he  regarded  the 
young  Badger  with  eyes  of  too  much  keenness  and  suspicion 
to  suffer  his  real  sentiments  to  be  known.  Without  hesitation, 
he  joined  issue  with  the  venerable  elder,  as  well  on  the  pro 
priety  as  the  necessity  of  the  course  he  proposed  to  pursue ; 
deliberately  questioning  the  correctness  of  the  assumption,  that 
there  was  any  number  of  men  engaged  in  the  outlawry  which 
had  troubled  the  neighborhood ;  and  insisting  upon  the  strong 
probability  of  all  the  detailed  offences  having  been  committed 
by  the  same  two  or  three  individuals  who  had  been  conspicuous 
in  each.  Much  of  his  argument  was  founded  upon  the  broad, 
patriotic  text,  that  in  a  country  like  ours,  where  the  means  of 
life  are  so  readily  and  universally  to  be  obtained,  it  was  morally 
impossible  that  any  numerous  set  of  men  could  be  found,  wil 
fully  disregarding  the  laws  and  making  themselves  liable  to 
their  penalties. 

His  views  were  supported  at  large,  and  with  much  more 
earnestness,  by  Gideon  Badger,  who  took  especial  care  to  wind 
up  his  notions  of  the  subject,  by  an  elaborate  eulogy  upon  the 
moral  and  religious  influences  which  had  been  exercised  over 
the  neighborhood  by  the  burning  and  shining  light  fixed  upon 
Zion's  Hill. 

But  neither  the  well-tempered  courtesy  with  which  Vernon 
had  spoken,  nor  the  closing  and  rather  bald  flattery  of  Gideon's 
speech,  saved  them  from  the  charge  of  vaingloriousness  arid 
presumption  from  the  venerable  elder,  who  was  never  more  full 
of  Christian  texts  than  when  he  was  following  his  own  mind, 
and  resolved  upon  making  others  do  so  likewise. 

Having  adopted  the  notions  of  Rawlins  as  his  own,  he  was 
as  rigid  in  their  maintenance  as  he  ever  could  have  been  in 
that  of  a  favorite  text.  He  went  into  a  history  of  all  the  rpb- 


THE    FOXES   IN    COUNCIL.  225 

oeries  and  murders  in  the  county  and  in  the  neighboring  coun 
ties  for  the  ten  previous  years;  connected  them  together  by  a 
suppositilious  train  of  circumstances,  ascribed  them  all  to  the 
same  set  of  men,  and  concluded  by  declaring,  that  "  the  time 
was  at  length  come  for  the  punishment  of  the  offenders ;  that 
the  vengeance  of  God  was  at  length  ripe ;  that  the  sword  wat 
unsheathed  to  smite,  and  sharpened  for  destruction,  and  tha' 
he" — though  this  was  rather  left  to  the  implication  of  tin 
hearers — "  was  the  appointed  messenger  of  wrath,  who  was  at 
once  to  denounce  the  judgment  and  carry  it  into  execution/' 
His  resolution  to  obey  the  commission  which  had  been  given 
him,  was  followed  by  a  direct  demand  on  Vernon's  services,  to 
assist  in  carrying  out  his  purposes,  which  he  resolved  to  begin 
forthwith. 

"Impossible,  Mr.  Badger,  impossible!"  was  the  reply  of 
Vernon.  "  I  am  not  the  master  of  rny  own  time,  and  can  delay 
no  longer  than  is  absolutely  necessary.  I  must  pursue  my 
journey  to-morrow,  and  should  have  resumed  it  to-day,  but  that 
my  thigh  felt  too  sore  and  stiff  to  justify  the  attempt  to  ride  so 
soon  after  my  hurts." 

"Young  man,  would  you  fly  from  your  duty  ?"  demanded  the 
other  with  solemnity. 

"  No,  sir,  it  is  in  the  performance  of  my  duties  that  I  would 
fly  so  soon  from  your  hospitable  dwelling.  I  have  occasions 
which  command  my  haste  and  attention  elsewhere ;  and  1  pro 
pose  to  leave  you,  at  the  rise  of  to-morrow's  dawn,  with  the 
view  to  their  performance." 

The  elder  was  not  to  be  gainsayed,  and  he  showed  himself 
as  tenacious  on  the  present,  as  upon  most  other  occasions. 

"  There  can  be  no  call  so  urgent,  young  man,  as  that  of  our 
country  ;  no  duty  so  clearly  necessary  as  the  detection  and  pun 
ishment  of  crime." 

"  You  forget,  Mr.  Badger,"  replied  Vernon,  availing  himscll 
of  his  own  expressed  opinions  rather  than  those  which  he  really 
felt;  "you  forget,  Mr.  Badger,  that  1  take  a  different  view  of 
these  facts  from  yourself;  that  I  see  not  the  same  dangers,  and 
do  not  recognise  the  same  necessity  ;  but,  even  were  it  other 
wise,  I  see  not  how  I  could  assist  you  materially,  and  acknow 
ledge  the  presence  of  other,  and  as  you  m.iv  think  them,  selfish 

10* 


BOUDEK    BEAGLES. 

obligations,  which  compel  me  elsewhere.  Should  it  occur  thai 
I  may  do  anything  to  promote  your  wishes,  I  believe  that  I  may 
safely  assure  you  that  you  should  not  find  me  wanting." 

"  We  must  even  try  to  carry  on  the  good  work  without  you," 
icplied  the  other  stiffly ;  and  with  this  the  further  conference 
between  the  two  ended.  But  the  reluctance  of  Vernon  rather 
stimulated  than  discouraged  the  methodist,  who  was  always 
strengthened  in  purpose  and  performance  by  the  increase  of  his 
own  personal  responsibilities.  Having  despatched  a  servant  to 
summon  his  constable,  Harvey,  to  his  presence,  he  proceeded  to 
concoct  his  plans  for  taking  the  outlaws,  or,  at  least,  breaking 
up  their  nest  in  the  Loosa-Cliitta  swamp,  with  more  earnestness 
than  secresy.  The  arrival  of  Harvey  enabled  him  to  issue  the 
warrant  against  Yarbers  for  horse-stealing,  based  upon  the  oath 
of  Edward  JVIabry. 

"  This  knocks  up  your  affair  with  Mary  Clayton  for  evc-i. 
Ned,"  was  the  consolatory  remark  whispered  in  the  ears  of  the 
lover  by  his  friend  Rawlins,  as  the  warrant  was  given  to  the 
constable. 

"  Well,  I  know  it  —  I  don't  care  a  d — n  ;  I'll  make  him  sweat 
for  his  impudence,  though  it  makes  me  lose  everything." 

Harvey,  who  was  a  stout  fellow,  of  a  bold  heart  and  well- 
tried  honesty,  was  made  a  party  to  the  further  deliberations  on 
the  subject  of  the  outlaws  of  the  neighborhood,  and  so  inn  Ji 
time  was  consumed  in  the  discussions  of  projects  and  difficulties, 
that  night  came  on  ere  he  was  permitted  to  depart  for  the  pur 
pose  of  arresting  Yarbers.  This  duty  was  therefore  deferred  to 
the  ensuing  morning;  but  that  very  night,  a  trusty  messenger 
conveyed  the  tidings  of  his  danger  to  the  horse-thief,  who  left  a 
warm  nest  but  nothing  in  it,  to  reward  the  industry  of  the  con 
stable,  who  returned  to  the  magistrate  with  another  proof  added 
to  the  many  commented  on  by  Rawlins,  that  there  was  some 
secret  and  sinister  influence  continually  busy  to  find  out  his  de 
signs,  and  defeat  his  warrants.  Yarbers,  who  was  neither  worse 
nor  better  than  a  squatter,  before  daylight  the  next  morning, 
was  speeding  on  with  bag  and  baggage,  wife  and  daughter,  to 
a  place  of  hiding  well  known  to  all  the  beagles  in  the  swamp. 

But  Vernon,  though  lie  retrained  from  yielding  himself  to  the 
importunities  of  Badger,  had  no  such  indifference  to  his  project 


THI;  FOXES  ix  COUNCIL.  :  ~i 

nor  did  fie  entertain  those  doubts  of  tlic  necessity  of  proceeding 
against  the  outlaws  which  he  yet  professed.  In  his  chambei 
that  night,  alone  with  Rawlins,  he  declared  himself  more  fully. 

"  I  agree  with  you,  Rawlins,  in  my  doubts  of  the  integrity  of 
this  youth,  Gideon  Badger,  and  I  have  as  little  faith  in  the 
judgment  of  his  father.  The  one  would  wilfully  and  dishonestly 
betray  —  the  other  would  commit  the  same  fault  through  the 
mere  love  of  display  and  authority.  I  am  pleased  at  the  re 
serve  which  you  have  shown,  and  will  requite  it  by  a  degree  of 
confidence  which  must  move  you  to  increased  reserve.  "What 
I  do  and  say  to  you,  must,  of  all  things,  be  most  studiously  kept 
from  this  old  man  and  his  son ;  and,  indeed,  whatever  you  pro 
pose  to  do  in  the  case  of  these  robbers,  must  be  also  withheld, 
if  you  hope  to  be  successful  in  your  projects.  Your  passionate 
friend,  Mabry,  too,  should  have  none  of  your  confidence  in  such 
matters,  for,  though  honest  enough,  he  lacks  all  discretion,  awl 
would  blow  us  in  the  first  gust  of  .phrensy  that  happened  to 
seize  upon  him.  See  to  that  door  —  I  heard  footsteps  —  I  speak 
for  your  ears  only." 

This  done,  and  assured  that  there  was  none  to  hear  but  Raw- 
lins,  Vernon  proceeded  to  inform  the  astounded  woodman  of 
those  facts  in  the  history  of  the  mystic  brotherhood,  and  the 
flight  of  Clem  Foster  from  Alabama,  and  his  probable  presence 
in  the  neighborhood,  all  of  which  had  been  gathered  by  him  in 
his  interview  with  the  governor  of  Mississippi.  We  forbear 
the  long  detail,  so  unnecessary  to  us,  and  avoid  repetition  of  the 
still  longer  conversation  which  ensued  between  the  two  in  ref 
erence  to  the  subject,  and  the  proper  course  to  be  pursued  by 
Rawlins  in  the  management  of  the  game  before  him.  Vernon 
studiously  counselled  the  other  to  forbear  taking  any  active 
part  in  the  affair,  until  events  had  more  completely  developed 
the  persons,  the  aims,  and  the  particular  whereabouts  of  the 
'.utlaws.  In  all  circumstances  he  especially  counselled  the 
sturdy  woodman  —  who  already  regarded  him  as  an  oracle  — 
while  using  the  influence  of  William  Badger,  on  no  account  to 
admit  his  privity  to  any  plan  which  he  might  deem  it  advisable 
to  pursue. 

"  It  may  be  that  I  shall  be  able  to  assist  you  in  person  before 
many  days  My  present  hope  is  to  accomplish  the  urgent  busi 


228  BORDER    BKAGLKS 

ness  upon  which  I  shall  set  forth  to-morrow,  in  time  to  fulfil  the 
partial  promise  which  I  made,  on  leaving  Raymond,  to  the 
governor.  But,  at  all  events,  I  will  provide  you  with  authority 
for  your  own  action,  which  will  strengthen  your  power,  and 
confirm  your  influence  over  your  neighbors.  Here  is  a  com 
mission,  with  his  excellency's  signature,  which  makes  you  «\ 
captain  over  such  a  body  of  men  as  you  may  gather  together 
willing  to  obey  your  command.  Here,  further,  is  a  small  li.vt 
of  suspected  persons.  To  none  of  these  should  you  extend  your 
trust.  Some  of  the  persons,  perhaps,  may  be  among  your  ac 
quaintance,  and  it  would  be  advisable,  however  well  you  may 
esteem  them,  to  maintain  toward  them  the  utmost  reserve  re 
specting  all  your  plans.  I  will  write  to  his  excellency  to-night, 
under  an  assumed  name,  and  leave  the  letter  with  you,  to  despatch 
from  the  nearest  postoffice.  The  address  will  be  one  already 
agreed  upon  between  us,  and  he  will  give  you  further  instruc 
tions —  perhaps  send  to  ygu  a  special  messenger — as  George 
Jenkinson.  You  will  answer  to  the  name  for  a  time,  since  it 
would  be  unsafe  to  address  you  by  your  own.  I  will  also  give 
you  another  letter  to  a  friend,  which  you  will  oblige  me  by 
despatching  by  the  same  post  as  that  which  takes  my  letter  to 
the  governor.  There  are  other  matters  upon  which  I  will  re 
flect  before  sleeping  to-night,  which  will,  perhaps,  enable  us  to 
correspond  while  apart,  and  play  this  difficult  game  with  some 
good  prospects  of  success.  For  the  present,  let  us  separate,  that 
there  may  be  no  suspicions  of  the  confidence  between  us." 

That  night  Vernon  prepared  his  letters  for  the  governor,  and 
his  friend  and  patron,  Carter.  To  the  former  he  detailed  such 
a  portion  of  his  adventures,  and  his  brief  experience  at  Zi-on's 
Hill,  as  would  enable  him  to  form  an  idea  of  the  material  ne 
had  to  depend  upon  in  the  issue  which,  it  was  obvious  enough, 
was  approaching  fast  between  the  outlaws  and  the  government. 
The  merits  of  Walter  Rawlins  were  set  forth  in  proper  language, 
and  a  list  of  names,  which  had  been  furnished  by  the  worthy 
woodman,  of  persons  to  be  relied  on,  was  included  in  the  letter. 
To  Carter  he  wrote  a  more  comprehensive  epistle,  in  which  his 
fortunes  from  the  moment  of  their  separation  were  described  at 
largo,,  lie  did  nut  fail  to  apprize  hi^i  «f  tho  discovery,  which 
he  thought  himself  to  have  ir.aiii1.  of  Mnitiaml  in  the  person  o^ 


TTTE    FOXES    IN    COUNCIL.  229 

the  traveller  whom  he  had  rescued  from  the  robbers,  iris  hurt, 
slight  as  it  was,  was  spoken  of  even  more  slightingly  than  it  de 
served  ;  and  he  declared  his  ability  and  intention  to  renew  his 
pursuit  on  the  morning  following.  His  language  was  full  of 
hope  and  light-heartedness,  his  tone  being  studiously  assumed 
to  encourage  his  friend  and  patron.  But  it  might  have  been 
remarked  that  though  Vernon  spoke  freely  and  fully  of  all  other 
matters,  he  yet  found,  on  finishing  the  letter,  that  he  had  said 
not  a  word  on  the  subject  of  the  two  daughters  —  or,  rather,  the 
one  daughter  of  Maitland  who  accompanied  him.  He  was  re 
minded,  on  reperusing  the  epistle,  to  say  something  to  supply 
this  omission  in  the  form  of  a  postscript,  but  finding  that  he  had 
not  room  to  say  much,  he  adopted  the  satisfactory  determination 
to  say  nothing ;  and  so  his  labors  closed  for  the  night. 

While  the  conference  was  going  on  between  Vernon  and 
llawlins,  Gideon  Badger  was  making  his  way  to  the  woods, 
where  he  found  Saxon,  Jones,  and  another  of  the  confederates. 
To  them  he  narrated  the  discussion  which  had  taken  place, 
under  his  father's  lead,  between  the  assembled  company  at 
Zion's  Hill. 

"This  fellow,  Mabry,"  said  Saxon,  "will  not  sleep  soundly 
until  he's  knocked  on  the  head.  We  must  send  Yarbers  off, 
For  it  won't  do  to  kick  up  a  bobbery  on  his  account.  Mack,"  lie 
continued,  addressing  the  confederate  hitherto  unnamed,  "  take 
horse  instantly  for  Yarbers  —  tell  him  what's  going  on,  and  say 
from  me,  that  we  can  do  nothing  for  him  just  now.  Let  him 
make  tracks  for  Bear  Garden  before  day  peeps." 

To  hear  was  to  obey.  The  fellow  was  off  in  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye,  and  Saxon  continued  thus : — 

"What  the  devil  shall  we  do  to  quiet  your  father,  Gideon? 
I  am  puzzled  what  to  do  with  him." 

"Knock  him  on  the  head,  too,"  was  the  answer  of  Jones,  "if 
it's  only  to  help  Gideon  to  a  little  that  he  ought  to  have,  and 
rescue  him  from  the  strait  jacket  of  rnethodism.  Lord!  Saxon, 
it's  the  most  funny  thing  in  the  world,  to  see  the  pompous  old 
parson,  his  round,  red  face  looking  forth  from  his  white  neck 
cloth,  and  half  fenced  in  by  his  high  shoulders  and  black  cape, 
like  a  terrapin  on  a  wet  log,  meditating  the  ways  and  means  for 
a  Sunday  dinner  and  Gideon,  meek  as  a  mouse  ia  the  cornti 


230  &KN    r.K.-UILES. 

ol  a  trap  th;:t  has  haliied  all  liis  efforts  at  escape,  patiently  re 
signed  to  what  is  coming-  -an  evening  prayer  and  sermon  three 
hours  long,  church  measure  —  cursing  in  his  heart,  all  the  while, 
that  sort  of  heavenly  unction  which  keeps  him  in  a  stew  worse 
than  any  ever  known  in  hell.  I  have  peeped  in  once  when  I 
went  to  look  after  Gideon,  and  once  was  enough.  After  that  I 
never  went  nigher  than  the  garden  fence,  and  there  I  gave  llu 
signal.  That  sermon  was  quite  enough  to  keep  off  any  beagle 
of  any  stomach,  and  sure  am  I.  that  the  old  man  had  better 
begin  to  hunt  us  with  a  full  mouth,  such  as  he  had  that  day, 
than  with  a  six-pounder.  We  could  dodge  the  shot,  but  that 
sermon  would  be  sure  to  reach  us  wherever  we  might  skulk. 
For  my  part,  let  me  be  safe  hidden  in  a  hollow,  and  put  Billy 
Badger  near  by,  well  wound  up  for  a  long  run,  he'd  be  sure  to 
drive  me  out.  I  must  stop  my  ears,  or  let  my  heels  go,  for 
stand  him  ten  minutes  I  neither  could  nor  would,  for  all  that 
head  or  heels  might  be  worth.  I'm  clear,  the  shortest  and  best 
way  for  all  parties  is  to  knock  him  on  the  head  with  Mabry. 
We  have  good  reason  for  thinking  that  Gideon  would  never 
take  up  preaching  as  a  trade,  certainly  he  can  not  give  us  such 
prayers  as  his  father ;  and  so  the  sooner  the  old  man  is  gathered, 
the  better  for  the  goodly  seed  which  he  leaves  behind  him." 

Gideon  who  was  one  of  those  goodly  rogues  that  like  to  keep 
up  appearances  even  in  situations  where  hypocrisy  seems  to 
be  the  last  thing  necessary,  growled  out  something  in  reply  to 
this,  of  an  angry  savor;  but  Jones  knew  his  man  and  an 
swered  : — 

"Tut,  tut,  Gideon,  you  waste  breath.  You  know  as  well  as 
I,  that  were  the  Lord  in  his  mercy  —  to  use  the  goodly  phrase 
ology  of-Zion's  Hill  —  to  summon  to  his  keeping  the  blessed 
head  thereof,  it  would  be  a  call  more  grateful  to  his  devout  and 
affectionate  son  Gideon,  than  any  his  ears  ever  heard." 

"Enough,  Jones,"  said  the  more  considerate  Saxon,  "this 
talk,  which  Gideon  may  suppose  you  to  utter  earnestly,  brings 
as  no  nigher  to  our  object.  Of  course  you  should  never  think 
of  doing  hurt  or  harm  to  any  of  the  family  of  one  who  belongs 
to,  and  acts  with  us,  unless  it  became  absolutely  necessary  to 
his  and  to  our  interests.  The  only  course  which  seems  cleai  lo 
OKV  if  the  old  man  gets  up  his  squad,  which  he  will  find  it  hard 


THE    FOXES    IX    COUNCIL.  231 

work  to  do,  is  that  we  must  skulk  ai.fl  run  for  it.  That  lie  i-.-m 
neither  find  nor  trouble  us,  is  sufficiently  certain.  Gideon, 
alone,  as  one  of  his  band,  will  give  us  all  intelligence;  and 
there  is  Cotton,  Saundcra,  Furst,  Mason,  Wilkes,  and  others, 
whom  he  will  no  doubt  muster  with  him,  and  who  will  tell  us 
just  when  and  where  the  cat  will  jump,  so  that  we  may  leave 
the  nest  empty.  We  must  leave  you,  Jones,  to  receive  notice 
from  Gideon,  whom  you  can  see  nightly,  of  anything  that  may 
be  determined  on,  and  this  intelligence  you  must  send  by  the 
quickest  beagle  you  can  call  up,  so  that  we  may  know  at  Cane 
Castle  and  Bear  Garden  what  to  look  for  and  when.  What  you 
tell  me  of  this  young  fellow,  Vernon,  is  the  most  surprising  of 
all.  Can  it  be  that  I  am  mistaken  in  the  man  ?  Is  it  possible 
that  he  is  only  going  for  private  business  ?  But  what  business  ? 
It  may  be  the  location  of  Yazoo  lands ;  he  may  be  another  of 
the  mad  fools  who  dream  nothing  but  pre-emptions,  and  fancy 
they  are  playing  the  great  game  to  themselves,  while  all  the 
rest  of  the  world  is  gaping  and  looking  on.  You  say  you 
searched  his  baggage  and  found  no  papers  ?" 

"None.     I  emptied  his  portmanteau  while  he  slept  on  the 
sofa  in  the  hall,  and  found  nothing  but  a  few  changes  of  linen, 
a  vest,  some  handkerchiefs,  and  half  a  dozen  stockings.    There 
was  neither  letter  nor  writing." 
"  Did  you  open  the  stockings  ?" 
"  No  !  I  didn't  think  of  that." 

"Ah!  that  was  half  doing  the  business  only.  But  you  say 
that  he  not  only  objected  to  going  with  your  father,  but  doubted 
the  truth  of  his  conjectures." 

"Made  light  of  it— nay,  laughed  at  it;  and  concluded  by 
declaring  his  intention  to  resume  his  own  journey  upward  by 
to-morrow's  sun." 

"  I  must  meet  with  him.  I  must  look  into  him  myself,"  said 
Saxon.  "I  will  join  him  on  the  road,  to-morrow,  and  he  will 
be  a  keen  lawyer,  indeed,  if  I  do  not  probe  his  depth,  and  find 
out  his  secrets.  It  may  be  that  I  am  deceived,  yet  the  circum 
stances  are  all  strong  and  strange.  He  may  have  laughed  at 
the  governor's  fears  as  he  laughed  at  Badger's;  and  yet,  after 
all,  it  may  have  been  a  private  speculation  only.  Would  I 
could  have  heard  that  conversation  ;  but  regret  is  useless.  Wo 


232  BORDER    BE.UJLES 

must  make  up  in  skill  the  deficiencies  of  fnrtui.c,  and  make  in 
genuity  do  that  which  necessity  requires  to  be  done.  If  I  dc 
not  sound  him  thoroughly  to-morrow  we  must  call  Justice 
Nawls  to  our  assistance." 

Much  of  this  was  spoken  soliloquizingly ;  and  was,  possiMy. 
beyond  the  immediate  comprehension  of  his  comrades.  At  its 
close,  Gideon  Badger  asked  : — 

"Did  you  suffer  the  old  man,  Wilson,  to  get  off?" 

«Yes:  —  your  blundering  the  day  before,  and  the  de:th  of 
Weston,  persuaded  me  that  it  was  proper  for  us  to  do  so,  »t  1«  ast 
in  this  neighborhood.  I  set  a  hound  on  his  track,  however,  so 
that  we  may  know  where  he  earths,  and  what  course  he  takes. 
If  he  has  anything,  we  can  easily  cover  him  before  he  touches 
the  Tennessee  line.  But  enough  with  you  to-night,  Gideon. 
A  dog  will  bark  at  the  foot  of  the  garden  at  noon  to-m;<rrcw  — 
let  him  know  what  the  old  man  has  done,  or  is  abort  to  do. 
Good  night." 

The  confederates  separated;  Saxon  and  his  companion,  Jones, 
sinking  into  the  deep  woods  beyond  the  garden,  and  Gideon 
Badger  leaping  the  fence,  and  faking  a  shorter  way  to  the  house. 

They  had  fully  gone  from  sight  and  hearing  —  ten  minuses 
had  been  allowed  to  elapse  after  their  absence  — when  Rachel 
Morrison  emerged  from  the  cowering  attitude  in  which  she  had 
crouched  and  found  concealment  in  a  thick  body  of  young  plum 
saplings,  brier,  and  shrub  shoots,  that  skirted  the  spot  where 
che  conspirators  had  carried  on  their  conference,  and  in  which 
she  .had  heard  every  syllable  that  had  been  uttered.  Her 
cheeks  were  pale,  very  pale,  when  she  came  forth  from  her 
place  of  concealment ;  her  form  trembled  with  the  crowding  and 
conflicting  emotions  of  her  soul ;  but  her  resolution,  which  had 
brought  her  to  the  spot,  and  had  kept  her  firm,  and  above  any 
of  those  apprehensions  which  afflict  most  women,  vas  still  as 
strong  and  unyielding  as  at  first.  Sick  at  heart,  and  sad,  with 
a  bitter  sadness,  she  was  yet  glad  that  she  had  so  far  conquered 
her  womanly  fears  —  the  scruples  of  a  nice,  and  in  ordinary 
necessities,  a  proper  delicacy  —  and  had  listened  to  that  cold 
calculating  conference  of  villany,  in  which  the  fate  of  those  to 
whom  she  was  linked  by  innumerable  ties,  was  so  intimate!} 
interested. 


TERIiJBLE    DISCO VEiiY — A    WOMAN'S   STRENGTH.         233 

"It  is,  tluMi,  true,  all  tnie,"  she  exclain.ed,  "  even  ;;s  M»»tlier 
Kerrison  assured  me,  and  as  my  o\vu  ic;u>  \\v\v  n.ost  ready  to 
believe.  Gideon  Badger  is  lost  —  lost  for  ever  ;  and  my  poor  old 
uncle  —  so  proud  in  himself — so  confident  of  all  around  him  — 
with  such  hope  in  his  only  son  j — what  will  he  the  pang  at  his 
heart  —  what  the  crushing  and  humbling  misery  of  his  soul, 
when  he  shall  hear  of  this !  And  hear  of  it  lie  must.  Even  if 
my  lips  remain  closed  upon  the  subject,  the  truth  will  reach  his 
ears  at  last.  There  must  come  the  hour  of  discovery,  when  all 
will  be  known ;  and  lie  —  God  strengthen  and  sustain  him  in 
that  dreadful  hour  !  For  me,  for  me,  what  is  left  now  ?  Shall 
I  speak  of  what  I  have  seen  and  heard  1  Shall  my  lips  declare 
these  dreadful  tidings,  and  my  hands  offer  him  the  bitter  cup  of 
desolation  ?  No  !  no  !  I  may  not  —  I  must  not.  I  have  not  the 
strength  —  not  the/heart  for  this.  I  must  contrive  other  means 
to  prevent  the  utter  ruin  of  the  one,  and  the  heart-wasting  deso 
lation  of  the  other.  God  of  heaven  —  eternal  and  preserving 
Father,  be  with  me  this  blessed  night,  and  counsel  me  in  the 
fitting  course,  which  shall  defeat  the  danger,  and  disarm  the 
sting  of  tin's  threatening  sorrow.  To  thy  grace  and  saving 
mercy,  Lord  Jesus,  I  commend  myself,  in  this  moment  of  doubt 
and  difficulty." 

Never  was  prayer  more  humble  and  devout,  and  offered  witt 
a  more  becoming  sense  and  spirit,  than  that  of  Rachel  Morrison 
kneeling  among  the  withered  leaves,  in  the  silence  of  the  night 
OD  the  edge  of  that  deep,  dim,  and  mournfully-sighing  forest 


BORDER    BEAGLES*. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

BKEN  ENCOUNTER  OF  WITS THE  ROGUES  ARREST  THE  TRHI 

MAN  —  BATTLE  OF  RIVAL  RACES. 

"I.  walking  in  the  place  where  men's  law-suits 
Are  heard  and  pleaded,  not  so  much  as  dreaming 
Of  any  such  encounter;  steps  me  forth 
Their  valiant  foreman,  with  the  words,  'I  'rest  you. 
I  made  no  more  ado,  but  laid  these  paws 
Close  on  his  shoulders,  tumbling  him  to  earth." 

GEORGE  CHAPMAN. 

THE  hour  was  late  when  the  Ftrong-minded  maiden,  Rachel 
Morrison,  reached  her  apartments.  The  family,  guests  and  all, 
had  retired  to  their  several  chambers  for  the  night ;  and  in  the 
silent  review  which  she  made  of  the  scene  she  had  just  wit 
nessed,  a  most  annoying  conviction  arose  in  her  mind  of  the 
probable  danger  awaiting  the  young  traveller,  Vernon,  who, 
she  knew,  had  appointed  to  resume  his  journey  on  the  morrow. 
She  recollected  the  promise  of  one  of  the  robbers  (Saxon)  to 
join  him  on  the  road  ;  and  this  promise  she  naturally  construed 
into  a  resolution  to  assail  him. 

To  warn  him  of  his  danger  was  her  first  impulse,  but  how 
was  this  to  be  done?  It  was  impossible  that  she  should  seek 
him  then  ;  it  was  scarcely  proper,  indeed,  that  she  should  seek 
him  at  any  time;  and  to  communicate  her  warning  to  Walter 
llawlins  —  the  most  easy  and  natural  mode  —  was  to  prompt 
his  inquiries  into  other  particulars  within  her  knowledge, 
which  she  was  not  yet  prepared  to  unfold.  She  dreaded  the 
prying  mind  of  her  lover,  and  doubted  her  own  strength  to  re 
fuse  him  that  information  which  was  effectually  to  blast  and 
destroy  the  son  of  her  protector.  The  conflict  in  her  mind  kept 
her  wakeful,  and  at  the  dawn  of  day  she  was  dressed,  and 
anxiously  on  the  watch  for  that  stir  in  the  household  which 


rxro  i:\7Kii  OF  WITS. 


might  denote  the 

joy  she  heard  footsteps  in  the  adjoining  passage,  which   she 

knew  to  be  those  of  Rawlins.     She  went  forth  and  joined  him. 

"  Walter,"  she  said,  "  your  friend  Mr.  Vernon  must  be 
on  his  guard  while  he  rides.  There  is  danger  awaiting  him 
—  let  him  see  to  his  arms,  and  be  heedful  of  the  company  he 
meets." 

"  Ha  !   Rachel  —  but  is  this  all  ?  —  know  you  nothing  more  ?" 

"  Nothing  that  is  of  any  service  to  him,  and  nothing  more  of 
his  danger.  The  robbers  are  near  us  ;  they  will  be  on  the  look 
out  for  him.  Counsel  him  to  be  well  prepared;  perhaps  you 
may  counsel  him  to  defer  his  departure." 

"  I  have  tried  that  already,  but  he  is  bent,  on  a  push  to-day. 
He's  very  restless  to  get  off,  though  his  thigh's  mighty  stiff  and 
sore.  But  tell  me,  Rachel,  how  do  you  know  all  this?" 

"Another  time  I  will  tell  you  all,  not  now  —  Gideon  is  stir 
ring.  Beware  of  him." 

"  Ha  !  Gideon  —  say,  Rachel,  what  of  Gideon  1" 

The  person  named,  at  this  moment  appeared  in  the  passage 
way,  and  the  maiden  was  gone  from  sight  in  the  next.  The 
woodman  instantly  returned  to  the  chamber  of  Vernon,  and 
apprized  him  of  what  he  had  heard.  The  latter  listened  to  him 
without  emotion. 

He  looked  to  his  pistols,  felt  the  charge,  renewed  the  priming, 
and  this  done,  continued  his  preparations  for  departure  as  coolly 
as  before.  An  early  breakfast  had  been  prepared,  after  which, 
and  the  unusually  long  grace  which  preceded  it,  Vernon  bade 
adieu  to  his  rigid,  but  hospitable  host,  and  joined  by  Rawlins, 
rode  forth  upon  his  way.  The  latter  escorted  him  to  the  river, 
.md  on  their  way  to  this  point,  Vernon  suggested  to  him  all 
those  plans  and  precautions,  by  which  the  woodman  was  to 
conduct  the  contemplated  operations  against  the  robbers.  The 
reasons  for  the  exclusion  of  the  old  methodist  and  his  son  were 
necessarily  increased  by  the  significant  warning  of  Rachel 
Morrison  ;  and,  counselled  as  well  as  he  might  be  under  the 
existing  circumstances,  Rawlins  returned  to  Zion's  Hill,  leaving 
our  hero  to  pursue  his  farther  journey  alone.  The  narrow,  but 
deep  and  rapid  stream  was  soon  crossed,  and  now  let  us  also 
leave  him,  for  a  brief  space,  while  lie  struggles  through  the 


236  BORDER   BEAGLES, 

rank  ooze,  and  interminable  ponds  ami  sluices  tliat  skirt,  nt  fre 
quent  intervals,  and  for  continued  miles  on  either  side,  the  dead 
level  borders  and  drowned  lands  of  the  Loosa-Chitta. 

The  sun  was  slowly  ascending  through  the  branches  of  the 
towering  cottonwood  and  pine-trees,  that  seemed  to  throw  them 
selves  forward  as  barriers  in  opposition  to  his  progress,  along 
the  eastern  elevation,  when  a  small  party  of  men, three  in  num 
ber,  might  have  been  seen  in  close  consultation  beneath  their 
concealing  umbrage.  One  of  these  was  no  other  than  our  old 
acquaintance,  Saxon.  Their  horses  were  in  hand,  as  if  made 
ready  for  a  journey  ;  and  that  air  of  quickness,  keenness,  and 
anxiety  which  mingled  in  their  manner,  and  contrasted  strongly 
with  the  low,  suppressed  tones  of  their  voices,  plainly  denoted 
some  new  expedition.  The  robbers  were  evidently  preparing 
for  business. 

"  Go  you  forward,"  said  Saxon  to  his  two  companions  as  he 
leaped  to  the  saddle,  "  and  let  Nawls  get  the  papers  in  readiness 
Meanwhile,  I  will  take  the  road  from  the  Benton  turn-out,  as 
soon  as  I  am  sure  that  our  man  has  passed  it.  I  know  his 
course  now,  and  can  readily  overtake  him.  Remember  you  are 
to  act  as  law  officers,  and  you  must  do  your  duty  with  becom 
ing  gravity.  None  of  your  swaggering  and  swearing,  Binks ; 
and  do  you,  Davis,  keep  a  dry  throat.  Be  sure  you  cast  no 
discredit  on  the  venerable  authority  you  are  supposed  to  rep 
resent.  It  is  an  honor  no  less  imposing  than  new,  that  you 
should  be  made  officers  of  the  law  you  have  so  often  offended. " 

"  Not  the  less  worthy  officers  for  all  that,"  said  one  of  the 
fellows.  "  '  Set  a  a  thief  to  catch  a  thief,'  is  a  maxim  which  will 
always  give  a  thief  employment." 

"Ay,  but  you  are  to  catch  an  honest  man  as  usual,  rascals; 
po  that  you  are  only  pursuing  an  old  trade.  But  ride  on  ;  you 
have  no  time  to  waste.  In  another  hour  our  man  will  be  within 
reach,  and  you  shall  meet  us  ere  we  get  to  Lucchesa.  Nawls  is 
better  at  running  a  horse  than  filling  out  a  warrant,  and  you 
will  need  to  spur  him  to  the  task.  Let  him  waste  no  minutep 
that  you  can  save  —  you,  Binks,  can  fill  up  the  blank  and  the 
judge  can  sign  it.  That  will  shorten  the  business  to  his  hand, 
and  by  all  calculations  you  should  be  able  to  tap  your  prisonei 
on  his  shoulder  ere  we  gain  sight  of  the  village.  Away." 


KEEN   ENCOUNTER    OF    WITS.  237 

"  it  is  done,"  said  Biuks,  putting  spurn  to  his  horse  and  fol 
lowed  closely  by  his  companion.  Saxon,  meanwhile,  crossing 
the  main  road,  sank  into  the  opposite  forests,  and  put  himself 
in  watcli  for  the  coming  of  his  prey.  He  was  not  long  in  wait 
ing.  His  calculations,  the  result  of  long  experience  of  horse's 
speed  and  the  road,  were  nearly  correct.  Before,  the  hour  was 
ended,  the  trampling  of  a  steed  was  heard,  and  Vernon  went 
by.  Suffering  some  moments  to  elapse,  the  better  to  deceive 
the  traveller  as  to  his  late  proximity,  Saxon  at  length  followed 
and  joined  him  a  few  hundred  yards  above. 

With  the  first  sound  of  approaching  footsteps,  Vernon  pre 
pared  himself  for  an  enemy,  but  the  sight  of  the  stranger  some 
what  disarmed  his  apprehensions.  Saxon  was  seemingly  with 
out  arms  of  any  kind,  and  there  was  that  in  the  frank  and 
manly  expression  of  his  face,  in  the  free,  hearty  salutation 
which  he  used,  and  the  quiet  and  simple  manner  of  his  address, 
that  Vernon,  as  a  mere  physiognomist  —  had  he  annexed  any 
importance  to  this  comparatively  idle  study  —  no  study  is  wholly 
idle  —  would  have  been  disposed  rather  to  confide  in  the  new 
comer,  than  to  regard  him  with  distrust.  He  answered  the 
salutation  of  the  stranger  with  equal  frankness,  and  it  was 
agreed,  as  they  both  aimed  for  Lucehesa,  that  they  should  ride 
on  their  way  together.  This  is  not  a  matter  of  difficult  ar 
rangement  in  a  country  of  such  lonesome  distances  and  long 
miles  as  ours ;  and  where  the  parties  are  young,  and  where 
they  have  already  had  any  experience  in  travelling,  there  is  a 
very  general  flexibility  of  temper,  which  prompts  them  to  great 
social  compliances  when  upon  the  road.  But,  with  the  present 
parties,  a  mutual  policy  would  alone  have  brought  them  togeth 
er ;  and  each  aiming  at  concealment,  the  frank  game  was  the 
only  one  to  be  played  by  those  who  had  any  occult  objects  ii> 
reserve.  Something,  too,  in  the  really  excellent  capacities  and 
good  education  of  the  two,  may  have  contributed  to  bring  them 
more  readily  together  ;  and  each  perceiving  in  the  other  a  nearer 
approximation  to  those  standards  of  taste  which  were  most 
agreeable  to  himself,  and  which  were  something  above  those 
presented  by  the  ordinary  intellects  of  forest  life,  the  dialogue 
grew  lively  after  a  brief  space  of  time,  and  soon  became  un 
flagging. 


238  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

| 

"A  few  years  more,  sir,"  said  Saxon,  in  reply  to  a  remark  of 
Vernon,  touching  the  sparse  settlements  along  the  Yazoo  ;  "  a 
few  years  more,  and  this  country  must  become  exceedingly 
populous.  Its  resources  must  be  found  out.  as  they  are  so 
greatly  desirable  to  the  poor  settler  everywhere.  The  wild- 
ness  of  the  region  will  keep  back  the  cold,  the  slow,  the  timid, 
and  the  wealthy.  They  will  shrink  from  a  too  closejrleighbor- 
hood  with  the  Indians,  and,  perhaps,  be  equally  apprehensive 
of  that  wild  class,  the  squatters,  who,  rude,  rash,  violent  and 
reckless  as  they  are,  are  yet  the  necessary  men  in  all  new 
countries.  These  will  continue  to  be  wild,  until  they  have 
made  some  valuable  acquisitions.  It  is  the  possession  of  some 
thing  to  lose,  that  makes  your  social  and  best  citizen,  and  the 
\  robber  himself,  when  his  accumulations  become  valuable,  will, 
\  I  doubt  not,  settle  down  into  the  sober  citizen,  and  grow  grave 
and  great  among  the  first  moralists  of  the  land." 

"  If  a  more  sudden  elevation  does  not  anticipate  such  slow 
results,"  said  Vernon  with  a  smile;  "but,"  he  continued,"! 
have  no  faith  in  half  the  monstrous  robber-tales  which  are  told 
of  every  new  country.  When  you  reach  the  scene  of  the  story, 
the  terrible  and  frequently  bloody  event  is  placed  in  a  region 
yet  farther  off.  The  border  is  always  beyond  you  ;  the  country 
of  the  monsters  —  the  anthropophagi  — 

"'Gorgon?,  and  hydras,  and  chimeras  dire' — 

,,  is  still  the  country  of  the  unknown.  You  approach,  and  the 
cloud  disperses,  and  that  which,  'afar  off  seen/  was  terrible,  not 
only  becomes  harmless  when  at  hand,  but  lovely  and  inviting, 
perhaps,  beyond  all  other  prospects.  A  certain  <Hstancft  'lends 
enchantment  to  the  view,'  while  an  uncertain  distance  clothes 
it  \vith  evil  aspects,  fills  it  with 

"  '  All  prodigious  things, 

Abominable,  unutterable  and  worse 

Than  fables  yet  have  feigned,  or  fear  conceived.' 

Ill  short,  ignorance  makes  as  many  monsters  as  fear,  nay,  it 
makes  fear;  —  and  mankind  for  ages  have  shrunk  from  the 
possession  of  the  garden  spots  of  earth,  through  dread  of  lho»e 
multiplied  terrors  which  have  been  made  to  guard  them,  simply 
through  the  mlnistrv  of  their  own  imaginations." 


KEEN    ENCOL'XTEU    OF    WITS.  239 

Saxon  concurred  with  Vernon  in  his  brief  and  natural  view 
of  the  subject,  and  the  conversation  proceeded  with  a  mutually 
increasing  interest  on  both  sides.  The  former  spoke  with  flu 
ency,  and  a  considerable  knowledge  of  the  plain,  the  positive, 
and  practical.  Like  qualities  of  mind  wore  observable  in  his 
Companion,  but  warmed  and  elevated  by  a  quick  and  vigorous 
imagination,  which  heightened  the  color  of  his  fancy,  gave  life 
to  his  delineations,  and  kindled  his  enthusiasm.  This  warmth 
suffered  a  check,  and  he  himself  received  a  warning,  however, 
as  he  found  the  conversation,  on  the  part  of  Saxon,  gradually 
rising  into  a  strain  of  complimentary  remark,  as  the  latter  either 
felt,  or  affected  to  feel,  the  eloquence  and  wisdom  of  his*  com 
panion's  sentiments.  The  quick,  sensitive  mind  of  Vernon. 
which,  like  that  of  most  ambitious  men,  had  an  instinctive  dread 
of  ridicule,  was  at  once  checked  in  its  familiarity,  and  sunk 
back  upon  its  caution  and  self-esteem  for  defence  and  protec 
tion.  A  cold,  merely  respectful  and  civil  tone  and  form  of  ex 
pression,  succeeded  to  the  glow  and  energy  of  his  previous 
manner;  and  Saxon,  with  that,  keen  eye  which  belongs  to  the 
tactician,  beheld  the  change,  and  readily  comprehended  it- 
origin. 

His  own  manner  was  also  changed  accordingly;  his  speec 
more  qualified  and  cautious ;  and  though  he  took  care  that  i\ 
what  he  said  the  easy  deference  of  his  opinions  should  couve^ 
a  no  less  flattering  testimony  to  his  companion's  merits,  he  ye 
forbore  any  of  those  more  open  expressions  of  approval  whicl> 
hf  had  imprudently  administered  ad  nauseam. 

But  the  nhe  sense  of  moral  delicacy  once  startled,  it  was  not 
so  easy  for  him  to  overcome  the  reluctance  of  Vernon  to  engage 
in  any  new  freedom  of  dialogue.  Not  that  the  conversation 
flagged  between  them ;  the  frankness  alone  was  gone ;  tlu 
playful  indifference  of  expression  had  passed  away  ;  and  thougi 
speech  was  no  less  ready  than  before,  yet  caution  watched  tin 
utterance,  and  truth  was  content  to  show  herself  only  at  tli- 
staid  and  squared  portals  of  opinion. 

With  some  dexterity,  Saxon  contrived  to  reopen  the  topi  - 
which  had  suggested  itself  to  them  at  their  first  meeting-- that, 
namely,  which  arose  naturally  from  the  wild  and  equivocal 
character  of  the  country,  and  its  evil  influence  over  the  sup* 


240  BORDEP.   BEAGLES. 

posed  physical  resources  of  tlie  soil.  It  was  an  easy  transition, 
which  the  outlaw  did  not  feel  at  all  scrupulous  to  make,  to  the 
frequent  robberies  and  misdemeanors  in  the  neighborhood.  lie 
spoke  of  them,  as  all  spoke  of  them,  as  frequent,  a.rid  sometimes 
coupled  with  greater  crimes;  but,  at  the  same  time,  seizing 
upon  an  expressed  opinion  of  Vernon,  he  declared  them  to  be 
infamously  exaggerated,  and  deplored  the  evils  to  the  country 
of  such  an  unhappy  notoriety  as  belonged  to  it. 

•'  It  is,  in  fact,  in  the  absence  of  citizens  that  these  things 
happen.  Our  population  is  guiltless,  I  am  sure,  of  any  partici 
pation  in  them  ;  and  these  crimes  are  committed  by  those  only 
who  make  our  territory  a  stage  for  their  villanous  performances. 
Had  we  a  community  sufficiently  dense  to  act  with  anything 
like  unanimity  —  indeed,  had  we  any  one  or  two  men,  caleula- 
*ed  by  ability  and  energy  to  take  a  lead,  and  bring  our  men 
together,  nothing,  I  am  sure,  would  be  more  easy  than  to  put  a 
stop  to  these  excesses.  We  might  soon,  by  lynching  a  few, 
keep  the  rest  in  order,  and  in  good  time  the  want  of  means  and 
money  would  compel  labor,  which  is  all  that  is  wanting  to  good 
morals  in  any  country." 

This  was  all  very  fairly  and  frankly  said  ;  the  truth  of  the 
latter  opinion  could  not  well  be  denied  ;  but  Vernon,  though 
suppressing  everything  like  apparent  suspicion,  was  yet  suspi 
cious  ;  and  once  startled,  he  was  one  of  those  keen,  restless 
minds,  that  can  not  be  quieted  short  of  utter  confirmation  on 
one  side  or  the  other.  The  mistimed  complimentary  speeches 
of  Saxon  still  occupied  his  thoughts,  and  were  productive  in 
him  of  some  such  musings  as  filled  the  mind  of  the  Prince  of 
Denmark  under  not  dissimilar  circumstances.  The  theatrical 
reference  which  his  companion  employed  in  one  part  of  his 
speech,  reminded  him  at  the  same  moment  of  his  quamlam 
friend  Horsey,  and  the  phlegmatic  and  indecisive  Dane.  Why 
should  he  flatter  so  poor  a  man  as  Hamlet?  Such  applauses  to 
one's  beard  were  not  in  ordinary  use  in  that  time  and  country  ; 
and  however  grateful  to  such  a  man  as  Horsey,  were  scarcely 
pleasing  to  him,  unless  it  were  that  his  companion  regarded  him 
also  as  one  of  the  players  just  "come  hither." 

At  all  events,  the  effect  upon  Vernon  was  to  counsel  him  to 
more  caution,  but  to  no  reserve ;  and  with  this  policy  in  view 


KEEN    ENCOUNTER    OF   WITS.  241 

he  expressed  himself  very  freely  in  accordance  with  the  opin 
ions  of  Saxon,  which,  indeed,  happened  to  be  precisely  such  as 
he  had  uttered  at  the  council-board  of  old  Badger  —  if  that 
might  be  called  a  place  of  council  where  the  chairman  —  as 
very  often  happens  to  venerable  chairmen  —  was  pretty  nmch 
resolved  from  the  beginning  to  have  his  own  way.  It  occurred 
very  naturally  that  he  should  relate  his  recent  adventures  on 
the  other  side  of  the  river  —  so  much,  at  least,  as  related  to  the 
attack  of  the  robbers,  and  his  own  slight  hurt  in  defence  of  the 
traveller. 

"I  then,"  he  concluded,  "in  a  conversation  with  a  very  wor 
thy  and  respectable  old  gentleman  —  a  Mr.  Badger,  with  whom 
I  remained  a  brief  space,  in  consequence  of  my  hurt  —  came  to 
this  very  conclusion,  though  in  direct  opposition  to  himself.  He 
was  for  turning  out  the  trainbands  at  once,  and  searching  the 
swamp  —  a  labor  which,  I  fear,  will  be  utterly  fruitless.  The 
same  scoundrels  that  assailed  Mr.  Wilson  are,  I  doubt  not,  full 
fifty  miles  off  before  this  time." 

The  keen  eye  of  Saxon  surveyed  the  speaker  with  a  glance 
which  seemed  intended  to  penetrate  his  soul ;  but  the  calm,  in* 
different  countenance  of  Vernon  baffled  the  inquiry. 

"This  fellow,"  thought  the  outlaw,  "is  either  a  most  admira 
ble  tactician,  or  I  have  taken  a  very  unnecessary  labor.  But, 
let  the  game  be  played  out.  We  are  now,  sir,"  speaking  aloud, 
"we  are  now  within  sight  of  one  of  the  prettiest  little  villages 
in  this  country.  They  call  it  Lucchesa  —  after  some  Italian 
city,  I  believe.  We  are  all  monstrous  fond  of  going  to  Europe 
for  names,  which  would  be  found  more  appropriate  and  quite  as 
smooth  and  musical  at  home.  But  call  Lucchesa  by  what  name 
you  will,  you  will  admit  when  you  see  it  that  it  is  one  of  the 
/sweetest  spots  that  could  be  found  anywhere  for  a  village.  It 
lies  among  gentle  risings,  which  here  may  be  called  hills  ;  and 
which  so  completely  surround,  as  to  leave  it  but  a  single  open 
ing  for  entrance,  and  that  seems  only  to  be  scooped  out  for  the 
purpose  —  a  work  not  of  nature  but  of  art.  The  woods,  you 
see,  are  thick  —  the  old  forests  are  barely  trimmed  to  let  in  the 
daylight,  as  it  were,  and  give  room  for  the  cottages.  These  are 
better  built  and  more  neatly  decorated  than  is  often  the  case  in 
our  country  villages ;  washed  with  lime,  which  answers  the 

11 


212  BIKIDER    UKAULEss. 

purpose  of  the  best  white  lead  for  a  season  or  n.ore ;  and. 
peeping  through  the  green  openings  here  and  there,  they  seem 
to  be  the  pleasantest  little  temples  that  were  ever  jet  raised  by 
humility  to  happiness.  1  think  I  could  spend  my  days  in  this 
little  village,  without  ever  desiring  to  look  down  on  the  outer 
side  of  the  hills  which  surround  it." 

"You  live  here,  then  ?"  was  the  natural  question  of  Vernon. 

"Yes,  I  may  say  so,"  was  the  somewhat  evasive  answer;  "  [ 
live  here  when  not  elsewhere.  But  it  is  not  permitted  us  to 
choose  our  habitations  any  more  than  to  choose  our  graves. 
No  man  can  say,  death  shall  seek  me  here,  however  much  he 
might  pray  for  it." 

Saxon  was  on  the  verge  of  Badgerism,  as  the  two  entered 
the  little  arid  lovely,  but  scattered  village  of  Lucchesa.  It 
seemed  a  settlement  of  some  fifteen  or  twenty  families  —  the 
cottages  gleaming  in  a  broken  circle  from  among  the  trees,, 
planted  without  much  reference  to  each  other,  but  amply  gain 
ing  in  picturesque-ness  what  they  might  have  lacked  in  regular 
ity.  Some  of  these  were  girdled  and  guarded  by  little  low 
white  palings,  that  followed  the  hill-slopes  on  which  they  stood; 
some  were  fenced  by  hedges  of  the  wild  rose  or  the  box,  and 
among  the  small  trees  and  bushes,  and  the  bush  myrtles  or 
spreading  cedars  that  filled  up  the  space  between,  the  multiflora 
and  the  perpetual  rose  leaped  and  twined  even  around  the  top 
most  branches.  A  few  pale  sycamores  rose  up  majestically 
amid  the  dwarf  foliage  that  filled  the  valley,  and  ran  down  the 
slopes,  giving  a  staid  and  solemn  air  to  a  scene  that  otherwise 
presented  no  other  aspect  than  one  of  unqualified  sweetness. 
But  one  object  more  than  all  gratified  the  eye  of  the  observer, 
in  the  little  stream  that  came  stealing  and  whispering  out  from 
the  hollow  in  which  the  village  stood,  by  the  only  portal  that 
led  into  it,  with  the  sly,  smiling  glance  of  the  truant  boy,  avail 
ing  himself  of  the  opportunity  and  open  door,  to  steal  away 
from  the  guarded  circuit,  and  lose  himself  for  a  while  among 
the  thick  groves  that  had  beguiled  him  from  a  distance  so  often 
and  so  sweetly  before. 

While  Vernon  looked  round  admiringly  upon  a  scene  that 
seemed  ,,rangely  placed  oh  the  very  confines  of  savage  life,  he 
suddenly  found  himself  confronted  by  two  persons,  who,  witb 


THE    ROGUES    ARREST    THE    TRUE    MAN. 

tlie  air  of  men  having  a  perfect  right  to  his  attention,  demanded 
to  know  his  name. 

"  My  name,  gentlemen  !  —  my  name  is  Vernon  ;  but  your  de 
mand  is  something  singular.  You  will  oblige  me  with  your 
reason." 

"  Oh,  yes,  that's  all  fair  enough  ;  Harry,  or  Henry  Vernon  — 
that's  right,  a'n't  it,  sir?"  said  one  of  the  men,  drawing  forth  a 
paper. 

"  It  is,  sir,"  was  the  reply  of  Vernon,  with  increasing  sur 
prise,  and  a  slight  increase  of  color  in  the  cheek,  and  that  dila 
tion  of  the  nostril  which  denotes  the  swelling  choler.  Saxon, 
meanwhile,  looked  on  with  well-affected  astonishment. 

"  Then,  sir,  if  you're  the  man,  we  are  commanded  to  arrest 
you,  in  the  name  of  the  state,  for  murder." 

"Murder!" 

"  Yes,  murder  !  — the  murder  of  one  Thomas  Horsey,  a  young 
gentleman  from  below  that  you  travelled  with  a  few  days 
past." 

"  Horsey  dead  !  Can  it  be  possible  ?  This  is  the  strangest 
matter,  sir,  and  —  but  show  me  your  warrant." 

"  Let  us  go  into  the  tavern,  Mr.  Vernon,"  said  Saxon,  sym- 
pathizingly,  "  and  you  can  there  look  more  calmly  into  this 
business." 

Upon  this  hint  the  party  went  forward,  Doe  and  Roe  taking 
care  to  environ  our  hero  in  such  a  manner  that  escape,  were  he 
disposed  to  try  it,  would  have  been  impossible.  Here,  with  feel 
ings  of  no  enviable  character,  Vernon  examined  the  instrument 
which  had  been  issued  for  his  taking.  He  found  it  to  be  a 
criminal  warrant,  proper  in  its  forms,  and  issued  by  one  Wil 
liam  Nawls,  a  regularly-acting  magistrate.  Had  an  enemy  con 
fronted  our  hero  with  intent  to  kill,  the  absolute  danger  would 
have  produced  less  disquiet  and  annoyance  in  his  mind  than 
did  the  simple  instrument  which  he  perused  and  reperused,  ab 
solutely  bewildered  and  confounded  for  the  moment.  That 
Horsey  should  have  been  murdered,  however  sudden  and  unex 
pected  this  event,  was  certainly  far  from  being  improbable  in  a 
neighborhood  where  he  himself,  but  a  few  days  before,  had  a 
fo^t*«te  of  a  similar  fate  awaiting  him.  But  that  he  should  be 
made  liable  for  the  actor's  fate,  and  arrested  for  his  murder 


--  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

was  one  of  those  contingencies  which,  a  moment  before,  he 
would  have  regarded  as  too  remote  and  ridiculous  a  possibility 
to  occasion  any  other  feeling  than  merriment  in  his  mind. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said  to  the  constables,"!  can  scarce  re 
cover  from  my  surprise  at  this  strange  accusation.  Pray,  on 
whose  oath  was  this  warrant  issued  ?  What  testimony  fur 
nished  the  grounds  for  this  charge?" 

"Well,  I  read  the  oath,  too,"  said  one  of  the  officers,  "but  if 
I  was  to  be  shot,  I  couldn't  say  if  the  man's  name  was  Walker 
or  Wilkins.  It  was  one  or  t'other,  I.  could  safely  swear,  but 
which,  there's  no  telling.  Hows'ever,  I  don't  reckon  it  makes 
much  difference  now  —  you  can  see  all  about  it  when  you  ge* 
before  the  judge." 

"True,  true  — Justice  Nawls!"  Turning  to  the  landlord 
and  showing  the  signature  of  the  warrant  —  "  Ts  this  name  tha 
of  a  gentleman  acting  as  a  magistrate  here,  sir  ?" 

"  Not  here,  sir,  but  a  few  miles  off,  on  the  Georgeville  road," 
was  the  reply  of  the  landlord. 

"A  mighty  good  man  is  Judge  Na'wls,"  said  one  of  the  by 
standers.  "  It  was  only  last  week  he  prayed  s'archingly  at 
Green  Brier  meeting*,  and  the  sperit  worked  in  him  so,  that  the 
sweat  stood  round  his  eyes  jist  the  same  as  he'd  been  a-plough- 
inor." 

"  'Twan't  the  sperit,  Dill,  'twas  only  the  flesh  that  worked 
so  mightily,"  said  another  of  the  bystanders.  "  'Twas  because 
he  had  none  of  the  sperit  that  the  Mesh  had  to  do  so  much;  and 
I'm  mighty  sure  Bill  Nawls  never  found  harder  work  at  tht 
plough  in  all  his  life,  than  he  did  at  that  ar'  very  sarmon." 

"Well,  and  worn't  it  a  good  one,  John  Richards?" 

"A  good  one !  Well,  I  can't  say  what  you  may  think  it,  but 
for  myself  I  can  say,  such  a  sermon  will  never  carry  me  very 
far  along  the  narrow  track.  There's  no  getting  to  heaven  by 
a  preaching  where  there's  no  getting  steam  up  ;  and  it's  a  mat 
ter  of  small  wonder  that  so  many  take  the  other  road,  and  go 
down  to  the  big  pit,  when  it  depends  upon  the  sweating  of  Bill 
Nawls's  flesh  to  keep  'em  from  it.  But  that's  not  to  say,  strap- 
ger,  that  Nawls  ain't  a  good  judge.  He's  a  most  onbecoming 
person,  that'll  see  all  sides  of  your  case,  and  do  you  justice 
enough  —  though,  to  be  sure,  he's  mighiy  slow,  and  takes  a  par 


THE    110CJUES     AIl-iEST    THE    TRUE    MAN.  24^> 

ticular  long  time  to  get  through  any  writing.  I've  seen  him 
take  jist  as  long  a  time,  now,  to  get  round  the  body  of  an  '0,'  or 
an  'e,'  as  I  would  to  put  on  the  tiro  of  a  great  wagon-wheel, 
drive  the  nails,  and  swing  it  on  the  body." 

The  merits  of  Judge  or  Justice  Nawls  as  a  man  and  preacher, 
thus  made  the  subject  of  popular  disputation  around  him,  was 
very  little  edifying  to  our  hero ;  and  just  at  this  point  of  the 
dispute  his  eye  caught,  on  a  sudden,  the  glimpse  of  an  object 
which,  for  the  moment,  almost  caused  an  entire  forge tf illness  of 
the  predicament  in  which  he  stood.  This  was  no  other  than 
the  carriage  of  Wilson  —  otherwise  Maitbmd  —  which  he  be 
held,  denuded  of  its  trunks  and  the  other  paraphernalia  of  the 
travellers,  yet  evidently  occupied,  as  if  for  an  evening  ride,  by 
its  proprietor  and  his  family.  A  mere  glimpse  was  afforded 
him  of  this  vehicle,  as  it  rapidly  passed  along  the  common  high 
way,  and  a  feeling  of  exulting  satisfaction,  which  had  its  source 
in  mingled  emotions,  sprang  up  in  his  bosom.  Once  more  the 
object  of  his  pursuit  seemed  to  be  within  his  grasp  ;  —  he  did 
not,  it  may  be  added,  fail  to  perceive  that  the  daughter  of  Mait- 
land  was  with  him  still,  though  it  never  entered  his  thoughts, 
at  this  early  stage  of  their  acquaintance,  tlftit  she,  too,  had  be 
come  an  object  of  his  pursuit.  The  desire  to  see  the  latter, 
had,  without  his  own  consciousness,  quite  as  much  influence 
over  him,  as  the  feeling  of  duty  which  prompted  him  to  secure 
the  former;  and  with  these  desires  in  his  mind,  uttering  an  ex 
clamation,  he  was  about  to  rush  to  the  entrance  of  the  tavern, 
when  his  arm  was  forcibly  grappled  by  the  officers.  , 

"  Not  so  fast,   my  lark.     That  cock  won't  fight,   I   can  tell 
you,"  exclaimed  one  of  the  constables,  while  a  brutal  burst  of 
laughter  from   both,  reminded   him  of  his  predicament,  which 
the  sight  of  the  carriage  of  Maitland  had  mov,ed  him  momen 
tarily  to  forget. 

"  Unhand  me,  fellows,  for  an  instant.  I  would  see  and  speak 
to  the  gentleman  in  that  carriage;"  and  he  almost  shook  him 
self  free  as  he  spoke,  while  his  efforts  were  such  as  to  render 
necessary  all  of  theirs  to  secure  him. 

"Be  quiet,  man,  before  I  put  a  spur  into  you,"  cried  one  o{ 
the  fellows,  taking  him  at  the  same  time  by  the  collar,  and  put 
ting  on  a  threatening  and  insolent  look,  that  goaded  Verin/n  to 


246  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

a  decree  of  forgetfulness  and  fury,  to  \\hich  the    sudden   arrest 
of  his  previous  movement  had  already  greatly  moved  him. 

"  Dog !"  he  exclaimed,  striking  down  the  arm  that  grasped 
his  collar,  and  driving  his  clenched  fist  into  the  fellow's  face  in 
the  instant  with  a  force  that  sent  him  to  the  floor,  "  do  you 
think  I  will  suffer  this  ?" 

"Help!  help  !"  cried  the  second  officer,  "  an  escape!  Citi 
zens,  I  command  you,  help,  help  !  —  stop  the  murderer  !" 

"Cease  howling,  fool !"  exclaimed  Vernon,  "  I  seek  not  to 
escape.  I  would  speak  but  a  moment  with  the  owner  of  yon 
carriage." 

His  words  were  disregarded  ;  the  constable  clung  to  him  with 
the  tenacity  of  a  bull-dog,  that  clings  still  though  it  may  not 
conquer,  and  Vernon  had  already  dragged  him  almost  to  the 
entrance,  when  a  short,  stout  Irishman,  who  lay  upon  a  bench 
in  the  room,  and  who,  to  this  moment,  had  looked  on  the  fray 
with  the  most  placid  indifference,  now  sprang  to  his  feet,  and 
lifting  a  bludgeon  that  had  lain  concealed  behind  him,  felled 
Vernon  to  the  ground  with  a  single  blow.  He  would  have  re 
peated  the  stroke,  when  a  stranger  interposed  —  a  young  Ala- 
bamian  who  had  also  just  arrived  in  the  village  —  and  catching 
the  lifted  arm  with  a  grasp  that  fixed  it  in  its  position,  ex 
claimed  : — 

"  Stick  down,  iny  lad  !  There  go  two  hands  to  this  bargain. 
What  the  devil  sort  of  soul  do  you  think  you  have,  d — n  you, 
to  strike  a  man  that  is  speechless  ?" 

"  T'under  and  turf,  my  honey  !  do  you  mane  to  make  me  your 
inimy  ?"  cried  the  Hibernian.  "  Would  ye  be  after  resaving  a 
tap  on  yer  own  pate,  my  honey  ?" 

"  Devil-may-care  if  I  do,  but  you  can't  give  it  me,  nor  any 
lad  of  your  inches,"  cried  the  Alabamian,  who  in  the  same 
moment  lifted  the  astonished  Irishman  to  his  full  height  in  the 
air,  in  defiance  of  all  his  struggles,  and  then  dropped  him  clown 
with  as  little  reluctance  as  if  he  had  been  one  of  the  most  in 
sensible  "  p'raties"  of  his  fatherland. 

"There,  Patrick,  what  do  you  say  to  that,  and  be  d — d  to 
you  ?" 

A  battle  to  the  death  was  nearly  the  consequence  of  this  dis 
play  of  prowess  on  the  part  of  the  Alabamian,  who.  no\vi;<p 


BATTLE    OF    RIVAL    RACES.  247 

loath,  prepared  fur  it  with  the  utmost  *% /W,7.  am!  answered 
the  threats  of  Patrick  with  a  swaggering  and  cool  defiance, 
which  denoted  the  most  perfect  confidence  in  himself.  But  it 
was  not  the  policy  of  Saxon,  who  recognised  a  follower  in 
Dennis  O'Dougherty,  to  suffer  it.  He  interposed  to  keep  the 
peace,  and  used  all  the  usual  and  effective  arguments  common 
to  cases^of  such  urgent  necessity.  The  bar  supplies  the  means 
of  bringing  about  a  pacification,  quite  as  often  as  it  promotes 
the  strifes  and  vexations  which  lead  to  war,  and  the  Alabamian 
expressed  himself  as  clearly  of  opinion  that  the  fun  was  quite 
as  great  to  drink,  as  to  fight,  with  a  stout  fellow. 
"As  for  Patrick,  here — " 

"  Dennis,  if  you  plase  —  Dennis  O'Dougherty,  of  the  O'Dough- 
ertys  of  Ballyshannon  by  the  pit  of  Ballany  — a  family  of  the 
(Mildest—there's  no  telling,  indade,  when  the  O'Doughertys 
were  not  a  family  of  the  ouldest." 

"  That  accounts  for  your  loss  of  strength,  Mr.  O'Dougherty," 
said  the  Alabamian  ;  "  if  you  hadn't  come  from  so  old  a  family, 
r  I  should  not  have  tumbled  you  so  easily.  Your  great-grand 
father  must  have  been  rather  a  stout  chap  in  his  time,  and  it 
might  have  given  me  more  trouble  to  spring  him  to  the  ceiling. 
But  the  blood  gets  mighty  thin  going  through  three,  or  five,  or 
seven  generations,  unless  the  breed  is  crossed  mighty  often. 
Now,  don't  you  see  the  advantage  of  being  of  a  new  family  ? 
In  my  state,  all  the  men  are  of  new  families,  and  we've  got  the 
strength  in  us.  Perhaps,  the  time,  will  come  that  our  children 
will  grow  weak  and  feeble  like  you,  Dennis,  and  some  chap, 
away  from  the  Red  River,  or  the  Sabine—  some  new  fellow 
from  Texas  or  thereabouts  — will  swing  the  grandson  of  Dick 
'- Jamison  just  as -easily  as  he  can  swing  you,  Dennis." 

"Asily,  do  you  say,  Misther  Dick" Jeemison  !"  exclaimed 
Dennis;  "  not  so  asy,  my  honey,  if  the  thing  is  to  be  thried 
agin.  You  had  the  back  of  me,  Mr.  Dick  Jeemison,  an'  that's 
a  rason  why  you  should  come  to  the  front.  But,  shall  it  be  foi 
a  quart,  that  we  shall  take  a  friendly  gripe  at  the  ribs,  or  will 
it  be  the  shillelah,  my  honey  ?'" 

"Stick,  fist,  or  hug,  Dennis  O'Dougherty,  it's  all  the  same  to 
Dick  Jamison.  You're  of  too  old  a  family,  Dennis,  to  stand  ui- 
with  a  young  man  from  Alabam';  the  stuffs  net  in  you.'mi 


248  BOUDEtt    BEAGL£S. 

lad,  and  1  should  swallow  you  at  a  mouthful  and  never  ask  aftei 
the  salt  " 

"  Now,  don't,  ye  be  after  desaving  yersclf,  my  honey/'  replied 
the  Irishman,  somewhat  astounded  at  the  cool  impudence  of  the 
Alahamian,  not  merely  in  disparaging  his  hitherto  acknowledged 
powers,  but  in  the  still  more  remarkable  disparagement  of  the 
greater  merits  of  an  old  family,  which,  to  the  great  horror  and 
surprise  of  Dennis,  were  now  made  to  give  way  to  the  claims  of 
a  young  one.  The  almost  contemptuous  terms  which  the  mem 
ber  of  the  new  house  employed  in  determining  the  proper  prece 
dence  of  the  latter,  uttered  with  so  much  complacency,  tended 
still  more  to  embitter  the  idea. 

"  Now,  don't  ye  be  after  desaving  yerself,  Mr.  Dick  Jeemison, 
saing  it  was  behind  my  back  that  ye  overkim  Dennis  O'Dough- 
erty  ;  and  don't  ye  be  after  thinking  that  ye  can  overkim  him 
agin  behind  his  back,  when  his  face  is  turned  upon  ye.  There's 
a  difference,  my  honey,  between  a  jontleman'sfa€e  and  his  back, 
that  ye'll  be  after  belaving  when  ye've  sane  them  together  as 
I  will  show  you  mine,  with  a  shillelah  in  aitch  hand,  and  a 
pistol  in  the  other,  and  the  spirit  of  universal  liberty  in  the 
sowl  which  will  make  a  involution  in  your  idces,  Mr.  Dick 
Jeemison,  and  taclie  you  a  leetle  abolition  of  doctrine,  that  ye 
may  take  back  with  ye  to  Alabama." 

"  Abolition  !"  exclaimed  one  of  the  inmates  of  the  bar. 

"Abolition!"  echoed  another  and  another,  and  a  dozen  faces 
were  peering  into  the  face  of  the  Hibernian  at  the  inauspicious 
word. 

"  Who's  talking  abolition  here  ?"  said  one. 

"What  Hasted  emissary  of  Arthur  Tappan  is  it?" 

"  It's  his  own  self,  I  do  think,"  said  a  third ;  and  the  mur 
nmrs  began  to  close  with  the  ominous  inquiry  after  that  vener 
able  border  magistrate,  Judge  Lynch. 

"  Jontlemen!"  exclaimed  the  Hibernian,  who  began  to  feel 
some  misgivings  that  his  position  might  be  made  a  very  awk 
ward  one,  if  the  Alabamian  should  happen  to  take  the  lead 
against  him.  "  Jontlemen  !"  said  he,  turning  from  one  to  the  other, 
with  an  air  of  mingled  apology  and  defiance,  "  don't  be  after  de- 
saving  yourselves,  and  misconsaving  Dennis  O'Dougherty.  I'm 
a  jontleman  by  my  mother's  side  —  she  was  an  O'Flaherty — " 


BATTLE   OF   RIVAL   RACES.  249 

"  To  be  sure ;  don't  you  suppose,  Dennis,  that  we  know  all 
that?"  said  the  Alabamian ;  "look  you,  friends  and  fellow-citi 
zens,  we  all  know  what  Dennis  means  by  abolition,  but  being  an 
Irishman  born,  and  of  an  old  family  that's  nearly  worn  out, 
how  should  he  be  able  to  speak  good  English.  He  is  a  gentle 
man,  as  he  says,  by  the  mother's  side  —  his  mother  being  an 
O'Flaherty  ;  and  a  lady  by  his  father's  side,  the  old  gentleman 
being  an  O'Dougherty ;  and  therefore  he  asks  you  all  to  join 
with  him  here  in  a  sup  of  whiskey  —  regular  Monongahela  — 
that  we  may  have  a  revolution  of  ideas  and  an  abolition  of  dis 
tinctions.  That's  what  Dennis  means  by  abolition,  only  the 
poor  fellow  hasn't  been  long  enough  in  America  to  speak  good 
English.  And,  look  you,  my  friends,  it's  not  a  bad  notion  now, 
I  tell  you,  for  a  man  whose  family's  almost  worn  out,  to  wish 
to  abolish  distinctions  where  our  families  are  only  just  begin 
ning.  He'd  be  mighty  willing  to  let  that  matter  drop,  and  so 
you  see  he's  forgiving  us  a  drop  all  round ;  so  come  Kitty,  fill 
your  quart  and  set  out  the  sugar,  and  look  you,  friends,  we'll 
drink  to  the  health  of  Mr.  Dennis  O'Dougherty,  who  is  a  gen 
tleman  by  his  mother's  side,  and  a  lady  by  his  father's;  and 
may  he  soon  recover  his  strength  by  getting  into  a  new  family." 

This  speech  was  received  with  loud  huzzas.  The  explanation 
of  the  Alabamian,  as  it  was  only  understood  in  part,  was  per 
fectly  satisfactory  to  all  parties ;  the  countrymen  around  were 
satisfied  with  it,  as  its  result  was  one  easily  swallowed  and  per 
fectly  habitual ;  and  the  Hibernian,  though  there  was  much  in 
the  speech  to  confound  his  better  judgment,  and  stagger  his 
conception  of  the  English  he  already  knew,  was  also  content  to 
receive  it  without  scruple  as  explanatory  of  his  own  ideas, 
simply  as  he  found  it  so  successful  with  all  around,  and  as  it 
relieved  him  from  a  predicament,  which  some  recent  examples 
had  already  convinced  him,  might  have  become  an  awkward,  if 
not  a  dangerous  one. 

A  more  general  diffusion  of  the  peace  principle  was  evident 
soon  after  the  quart  flagon  was  placed  upon  the  counter  of  the 
publican,  and  the  Alabamian,  who  was  something  of  a  wag,  and 
no  little  of  a  democrat,  was  soon  busy  in  laboring  to  convince 
Dennis  that  there  was  no  greater  misfortune  on  earth  than  to 
be  the  descendant  of  ;\  \  <M  y  old  family  ;  as  he  proceeded  to 


250  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

show  by  every  analogous  case,  drawn  from  the  history  of  bird, 
beast,  and  reptile,  that  the  breed  must  degenerate,  with  every 
successive  advance  after  the  third  generation  ;  and  the  only 
hope  of  an  old  nation  was  to  merge  itself,  as  soon  as  possible 
after  that  period,  in  the  body  and  bosom  of  a  new.  The  final 
speech  of  Mr.  Jamison,  at  the  moment  when  we  propose  to 
leave  the  company,  may  be  put  on  record  as  containing  a  prop: 
osition  of  quite  as  much  political  truth  as  theory. 

"  It's  in  America  here,  Dennis,  my  boy,  that  we  will  pre 
serve  the  English,  and  the  Irish,  and  the  Scotch,  when,  in  your 
own  country,  you'll  all  be  worked  down  to  a  mere  stump  of 
what  you  were.  It's  here,  I  tell  you,  that  the  English  people 
will  get  a  new  growth,  a  height  and  a  depth,  a  breadth  and  a 
bottom,  when  the  old  families  wouldn't  have  one  fellow  among 
'em  fit  to  carry  guts  to  a  bear.  This  is  the  country,  after  all, 
to  make  men  out  of  your  sticks,  jist  the  same  as  taking  a  plant 
from  one  place  where  it's  been  growing  so  long  that  it's  come 
to  nothing,  and  putting  it  into  a  new  field  where  it  never  was 
before.  See  the  difference  !  how  it  shoots  up  —  how  it  spreads, 
and  what  a  fine  crop  you  get  from  it  for  the  first  five  years 
—  may  be  seven  —  but  after  that  you  must  carry  it  farther  off 
to  some  new  opening,  and  begin  again.  If  I  was  to  do  any- 
thing  for  you,  Dennis,  I'd  marry  you  off  at  once  to  Polly 
Whitesides — you  all  know  Polly  Whitesides,  my  boys!"  —  A 
general  laugh  attested  the  success  of  the  reference.  —  "I'd 
marry  you  off  to  Polly  Whitesides,  of  Beattie's  Bluff,  and  make 
a  new  family  out  of  an  old  one." 

"  It's  a  lady  you  spake  of,  Mr.  Dick  Jeemison  ?" 

"Ay,  to  be  sure,  a  lady  —  what  else?  She's  six  feet  in  her 
stockings,  with  cheeks  red  as  a  gobbler's  gills,  and  an  arm, 
Dennis,  that  would  put  your  thigh  out  of  countenance !" 

"  J — s  !  and  she's  a  lady,  Mr.  Jeemison  T' 

"  And  the  very  gal  to  make  a  new  and  rising  family  out  of 
an  old  one  on  its  last  legs,"  was  the  reply. 

Let  us  change  the  scene,  and  follow  Vernon  into  the  af  art- 
ment  into  which  he  was  carried  at  the  moment  when  the  blow 
from  the  shillelah  of  Dennis  O'Dougherty  had  laid  him  sense 
less  ou  the  floor. 


PROGRESS   OF   DISCOVERY  —  A    SNARL.  261 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

PROGRESS    OF    DISCOVERY A    SNARL. 

"Now  we  have  argument 
Of  justice,  and  our  very  breath  is  law, 
%  To  speak  thee  dead  at  once." 

SHIRLET. 

WHILE  the  uproarious  controversy  Avas  in  progress  between 
the  Alabamian  and  his  Irish  opponent  in  the  tavern-hall,  Ver- 
non,  through  the  considerateness  and  care  of  Saxon,  was  con 
veyed  to  an  inner  apartment  in  a  state  of  insensibility.  The 
outlaw  had  his  unexpressed  objects  in  this  disposition  of  the 
youth,  and  his  connection  with  the  constables  readily  enabled 
him  to  make  such  arrangements  as  left  him  in  his  sole  custody. 
A  public  assurance  which  he  gave  them  in  the  bar-room,  that 
he  would  be  answerable  for  the  forthcoming  of  the  prisoner 
whenever  they  might  demand  him,  not  only  satisfied  the  worthy 
emissaries  of  the  law,  but  won  golden  opinions  for  the  outlaw 
from  the  unreflecting  spectators.  They  did  not,  with  a  single 
exception,  remark  the  strangeness  of  such  a  proceeding;  nor 
wonder,  as  well  they  might,  how  it  was  that  a  stranger's  assu 
rance,  and  one  who  appeared  to  have  been  the  companion  ol 
the  traveller,  should  be  taken  as  good  security  for  the  tem 
porary  release  of  the  same  person  charged  with  a  crime  so 
heinous. 

The  more  acute  Alabamian  saw  this  matter  in  its  true  light, 
and  was  not  the  less  curious  though  he  said  nothing  on  1  lie- 
subject.  As  for  the  constables,  the  reader,  who  knows  already 
what  they  are,  will  not  be  surprised  at  the  ready  complaisance 
which  they  yielded  to  the  will  of  the  outlaw.  They  were  very 
well  satisfied  to  exchange  the  tedious  watch  over  the  prisoner 
for  the  livelier  bustle  of  the  tavern-hall.  There  they  soou 
joined  the  revellers,  and  gave  themselves  up  to  that  perfect 


252  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

recklessness  of  good  order  and  morality,  which,  in  no  little  de 
grce,  tended  to  confirm  the  growing  suspicion  in  the  mind  of 
the  Alabamian  that  there  was  something  wrong  in  their  pro 
ceedings. 

A  sudden  regard  for  Vernon  had  been  the  fruit  of  the  first 
moment  of  their  meeting ;  as  he  saw,  or  fancied  he  saw,  even 
through  the  reserve  which  is  usually  the  accompaniment  of  su 
perior  endowments  and  education,  a  frankness  of  manner  and 
character  in  the  youth,  which,  while  resembling,  was  grateful  to 
his  own. 

These  first  loves.,  or  favorable  impressions,  are  very  common 
to  a  forest  country  such  as  ours,  where  no  long  time  is  allowecl 
for  the  formation  of  intimacies,  and  where  the  instincts  of  blood 
are  always  more  active  than  the  slow  and  cautious  approaches 
of  reason  and  philosophy. 

He  assisted,  we  may  state,  to  carry  the  insensible  form  of  the 
youth  into  the  chamber,  and  having  ascertained  that  Lucchesa 
was  not  without  its  physician,  he  despatched  one  of  the  urchins 
that  figured  at  the  tavern-door,  to  require  his  assistance ;  a  task 
which  the  boy  readily  undertook  with  the  tempting  reward  of  a 
fip-penny  piece  before  him.  This  done,  Jamison  returned  to 
his  controversy  with  the  Irishman,  which  he  made  subservient 
to  the  occult  purposes  of  inquiry  which  lay  at  the  bottom  of  his 
mind.  Ho  plied  the  whiskey-flagon  with  an  industry  which 
he  took  pains  to  make  appear  as  a  consequence  of  his  own  love 
for  the  living  beverage;  and  he  soon  had  occasion  to  congratu 
late  himself  on  the  discovery  of  one  or  two  facts  which,  though 
subordinate  in  importance,  were  yet  of  a  character  to  confirm 
him  in  his  suspicions. 

lie  soon  discovered,  in  the  first  place,  that  his  Irish  adver 
sary,  in  one  or  two  unwitting  speeches,  was  an  old  acquaintance 
of  the  constables ;  and,  from  the  modes  of  speech  and  the  sort 
of  anecdote  in  which  the  latter  freely  dealt,  he  was  easily  led  to 
infer  that,  however  honest  they  might  be  at  this  writing,  they 
had  certainly,  at  some  past  period  not  so  very  remote,  been 
very  exemplary  picaroons.  That  their  morals  were  not  such  as 
should  entitle  them  to  the  selection  of  a  devout  magistrate  such 
as  Judge  Nawls  had  been  described  to  be,  was  sufficiently  clear 
from  the  facility  with  which  they  threw  aside  that  starched  sem- 


PROGRESS   OP   DISCOVERY  —  A    SNARL.  253 

bianco  of  decency  which  they  had  just  before  put  on  in  the  as 
sumption  of  a  character,  and  in  the  performance  of  duties,  far 
other  than  those  to  which  they  had  been  sworn.  They  soon 
forgot  the  commands  of  their  leader,  who  was  too  busy  else 
where  to  heed  their  behavior,  and  hear  their  riotous  uproar,  as, 
in  the  person  of  Dennis  O'Dougherty  they  recognised  a  well- 
known  Jack  Pudding  of  their  gang;  and  the  renewal  of  sundry 
old  jokes  at  his  expense,  did  more  than  anything  besides  to 
convey  to  the  mind  of  the  acute  and  unsuspected  Alabamian, 
the  extent  and  sort  of  intimacy  which  had  before  subsisted  be 
tween  them. 

Their  presence  brought  no  little  increase  of  merriment  to 
the  carousing  party.  The  fun  had  been  about  to  decline  till 
their  appearance.  A  renewal  of  mirth  was  the  necessary  con 
sequence  of  the  arrival  of  such  old  proficients,  and  the  replen 
ishing  of  the  flagon  furnished  an  equal  supply  of  the  pabulum 
so  necessary  for  the  fervor  of  village  wit,  and  the  otherwise  cos 
tive  humor  of  a  country  population. 

Our  friend  Jamison,  speaking  from  his  soul,  cried,  "D — n  the 
expense,"  at  every  hearty  summons  to  the  company  to  refill  — 
a  summons  not  less  grateful  than  imperative,  and  one  never  to 
be  disputed  among  men  no  less  social  in  character  than  docile 
in  obedience  to  the  lawful  authority.  'Leaving  these  good  com 
panions  for  a  while,  let  us  seek  the  chamber  to  which  Vernoi 
had  been  carried. 

This  was  a  little  low  shed-room  containing  two  beds,  a  single 
chair,  a  broken  mirror,  and  a  couple  of  rude  colored  pictures, 
such  as  good  taste  was  willing  to  take,  without  scruple,  during 
the  war  of  1815,  at  the  hands  of  patriotism.  Never  did  native 
genius  effect  a  more  rascally  portraiture  of  humanity.  One  of 
the  pictures  represented  the  battle  of  New  Orleans;  the  other 
a  scalping-scene  at  the  massacre  of  Firt  Mimms,  on  the  Tensaw. 
In  the  former,  Pakenham  might  have  been  seen  going  through 
the  air  like  one  of  his  own  congreves,  as  blazing  red,  certainly, 
and  describing  pretty  much  the  same  sort  of  curve  when  at  the 
moment  of  declension.  His  head  nearly  touched  his  heels,  and 
the  grapeshot  might  have  been  seen  just  about  to  bury  their 
hissing  hot  bodies  in  the  gaping  wounds,  from  which  the  blood 
was  already  streaming,  in  pretty  much  the  same  volume  as 


254  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

would  issue  from  the  sudden  opening  of  a  water-plug  in  the 
streets  of  Philadelphia.  A  complete  display  of  pyrotechnics  — 
a  shower  of  fire  —  encircled  him,  and  formed  the  only  light, 
lurid  and  sulphurous  still,  which  the  artist  permitted  on  the 
British  side  of  the  business.  In  this  he  strove  hard  to  accom 
plish,  the  clair  obscur  with  the  utmost  practical  nicety.  The 
rest  of  the  battle  was  a  chaos  of  heads,  legs,  and  arms ;  horses 
kicking  without  bodies ;  men  running  without  feet ;  and  wheel 
ing  cannon  just  as  busy  advancing  and  receding,  though  never 
a  man  v^as  left  standing  at  the  drag-ropes.  Here  Imagination 
had  dovie  much  toward  the  achievement  of  that  desideratum  in 
all  her  works,  the  vague,  twilight,  picturesque,  and  imperfect 
dimness,  which  denotes  everything  that  is  not  beheld,  and 
makes  equivocal  whatever  is  distinct. 

But  the  amor  patrise  was  predominant  in  the  display  of  the 
American  lines — there  all  was  clear,  effulgent,  and  imposing. 
Still  and  stern,  the  Kentuckians  and  Tennesseans  stood  upon 
the  terraces.  Never  were  attitudes  more  perfect.  Even  those 
who  knelt  for  the  purpose  of  better  aim,  were  drawn  with  won 
derful  exactitude  and  majesty.  Here  was  truth.  The  eyt^ 
ranged  the  tube  with  a  mathematical  exactness.  Had  you 
taken  the  instruments  in  hand,  and  separated  the  lines  between 
the  eyes,  the  drop,  and  the  British,  you  would  have  seen  in  an 
instant  how  certain  was  their  defeat.  Every  muzzle  covered 
its  man  —  every  bullet  had  its  special  commission;  and  our 
artist  had  made  it  a  matter  sufficiently  clear,  without  reference 
to  any  dull  history,  that  the  American  victory  arose  from  no 
other  cause  than  the  excellent  aim  of  the  riflemen.  The  whole 
story  was  told  at  a  glance ;  and  when  you  recollect  that  the 
artillery  was  managed  with  similar  nicety,  you  have  no  sort  of 
difficulty  in  accounting  for  all  the  havoc  of  that  bloody  field. 
But  the  whole  powers  of  the  artist  were  concentrated  around 
the  form  of  the  hero  of  that  day.  General  Jackson  was  sur 
rounded  with  a  thousand  natural  glories.  The  sun  rose  over 
his  left  shoulder,  and  his  epaulet,  reflecting  his  light  upon  sur 
rounding  objects,  was  almost  as  bright,  and  quite  as  large,  as 
himself.  "  Bombs  bursting  in  air''  surrounded  him  with  halos 
of  falling  stars  that  became  tributary,  in  like  manner,  to  the 
awful  distinctness  of  his  face  and  figure.  There  he  stood, 


PROGRESS    OF    DISCOVERY  —  A    SNARL.  i> 

"Fierce  as  ten  furies,  terriblo  n<  lu-11." 

His  portrait  was  true,  as  all  the  portraits  of  very  great  men 
mast  be  true,  even  when  most  imperfect.  There  were  the  same 
thin  pale  cheeks,  the  raised  cheek-bones,  thin  compressed  lips, 
keen  eyes,  high  narrow  forehead,  and  raised  hair  —  the  head, 
for  the  greater  perfection  of  the  portrait,  having  been  left  un 
covered,  in  defiance  of  smoke  and  flame,  bombs  and  rockets, 
crackers  and  carcasses. 

But  the  terrors  of  expression  in  his  face  were  the  wonders  of 
the  performance.  Even  had  the  riflemen  been  utterly  wanting 
to  the  battle,  you  would  have  seen  that  these  were  enough  for 
the  victory.  There  was  not  a  wrinkle  in  the  old  warrior's 
brow  that  did  not  look  like  a  two-edged  sword.  His  mouth 
was  pursed  up  to  seem  a  seam — the  lines  forming  to  a  common 
centre,  the  appearance  of  which  led  you  to  expect  a  sudden 
expansion,  no  less  great  than  the  undue  contraction,  from  which 
triple  hail  and  thunder  were  to  issue.  His  beard,  too  —  for  the 
general,  if  the  artist  may  be  considered  good  authority  ip  a  par 
ticular  so  perfectly  domestic,  had  not  shaved  for  seven  days  — 
his  very  beard,  too,  like  that  of  old  Giaffar,  "  curled  in  ire,"  as 
he  waved  a  sword  twice  his  own  length,  and  pointing  to  Paken- 
ham's  whizzing  and  whirling  carcass,  seemed  disposed  to  thrust 
it  —  very  unnecessarily,  it  would  seem  —  into  the  aperture  made 
so  voluminously  large  already  by  the  grapeshot  aforesaid. 

Language  fails  to  do  justice  to  this  terrific  picture  —  go  to 
Lucchesa,  reader,  and  see  for  yourself.  We  forbear  that  of  the 
massacre  at  Fort  Mimms,  in  order  that  nothing  may  be  antici 
pated.  Like  that  of  the  battle,  it  is  a  painting  sui  generis. 
Never  were  scalps  taken  from  skulls  with  more  terrible  felicity 
of  execution  than  in  this  picture.  At  Raymond  court-house 
fou  will  see  another,  by  the  same  artist,  in  which  a  muse 
<nore  moral  than  she  of  history  has  been  invoked; — Justice 
ff'iih  her  scales  very  properly  presides  over  the  hall  of  justice. 
Lt  is  rather  awkward,  indeed,  that  one  scale  should  be  lower 
<han  the  other,  but  this  difference  simply  suggests  a  play  of  the 
tancy,  and  can  not  subject  the  painter  to  the  imputation  of  any 
serious  want  of  discrimination.  Certainly,  we  shall  venture  to 
incur  no  risk,  in  this  brief  passage,  of  indulging  iu  false  and 
superficial  analysis. 


256 


BORDER  BKACLES. 


Strange  to  say,  the  merits  of  these  pictures  entirely  escaped 
the  notice  of  Saxon.  Whether  he  had  seen  them  before,  or,  as 
is  quite  probable,  entertained  no  taste  for  the  fine  arts  —  a  defi 
ciency  quite  too  general  in  our  country,  and  quite  too  common 
among  all  people  whose  habits  are  wandering,  to  make  it  likely 
that  any  rebuke  will  be  of  service  for  a  hundred  years  to  come 
—  one  thing  is  certain,  that  he  never  gave  so  much  as  a  glance 
to  the  panels  in  which  these  gorgeous  performances  had  been 
set  on  high.  His  eye  and  thought  were  upon  the  young  man 
alone,  who  lay  insensible  upon  the  couch  ;  and,  under  the  pre 
tence  of  restoring  him  to  consciousness,  the  outlaw,  so  soon  as 
all  other  persons  had  retired  from  the  chamber,  very  coolly 
proceeded  to  unbutton  the  vest  and  bosom  of  his  patient,  and 
explore  the  contents  of  a  thin  gauze-like  handkerchief  wliich 
encircled  his  waist,  and  which  he  untied  with  the  dexterity  of 
an  old  proficient  in  all  such  practices,  without  disturbing  the 
position  of,  or  removing  the  handkerchief  from,  the  body.  A 
few  mo^nents  sufficed  to  enable  him  to  disengage  from  the  folds 
of  the  handkerchief  a  small  packet  which  lay  on  the  right  side 
of  the  youth.  This  he  transferred  with  all  speed  to  his  own 
bosom ;  and,  folding  a  newspaper  in  like  bulk  and  form,  he  de 
posited  it  in  place  of  the  papers  appropriated,  retied  the  hand 
kerchief,  rebuttoned  the  shirt  arid  vest;  and  all  this  without 
disturbing  the  wounded  man,  and  before  the  arrival  of  the  phy 
sician; —  an  event,  however,  which  occurred  a  moment  after. 

Dr.  Saunders  was  rather  a  clever  young  man,  who  had  re 
ceived  a  license  to  practise  but  a  few  months  before,  and  was 
no  less  modest  than  well-informed.  He  examined  the  hurt  of 
Vernon,  with  the  assistance  of  the  Alabamian,  who,  on  the  arri 
val  of  the  physician,  left  the  company  without,  and  with  the 
anxiety  of  an  old  friend,  awaited  the  result.  Vernon  had  over 
tasked  himself.  The  wound  in  his  thigh  wliich  had  bled  so 
copiously  was  irritated  by  the  hard  riding  of  the  dny.  He  had 
ridden  rapidly  in  order  to  overtake  the  carriage  of  Wilson,  and 
had  overcome  a  distance  of  more  than  forty  miles.  The  ex 
citement  following  previous  events,  and  the  anticipation  of 
those  before  him  had  also  contributed  to  the  irritation  of  his 
system;  and,  when  arrested  for  so  heinous  an  offence  as  that 
of  murder,  and  the  murder,  too,  of  his  late  companion,  it 


PROGRESS   OF    DISCOVERY  —  A    SNARL.  257 

IB  not  improbable  that  fever  would  have  followed  his  men 
tal  suffering,  even  without  the  additional  injury  which  he 
received  from  the  unmeasured  blow  of  the  Irishman.  The 
patient's  consciousness  returned  while  the  examination  of  the 
physician  was  going  on.  He  started,  and  with  an  instinctive 
movement  which  betrayed  the  deep  interest  which  he  had  at 
stake,  he  threw  off  the  intrusive  hands  about  him,  and  his  own 
were  thrust  into  his  bosom  and  not  withdrawn  until  he  assured 
himself  of  the  safety  of  the  secret  deposite  which  he  had  bound 
around  his  body.  With  anxiety  and  agitation  heightened  by 
fever,  he  turned  to  the  two  attendants,  and  demanded  what  was 
meant  by  their  familiarities.  The  matter  was  soon  explained, 
the  doctor  announced  himself,  and  coming  slowly  to  a  recollec 
tion  of  what  had  taken  place  in  the  tavern,  Vernon  quietly  sub 
mitted  himself  to  his  hands. 

Meanwhile,  in  the  possession  of  his  prize  and  anxious  for  its 
examination,  Saxon  availed  himself  of  the  coming  of  the  physi 
cian  to  retire  to  another  apartment.  There,  in  secret,  he  un 
folded  the  packet,  the  contents  of  which  had  the  instant  effect 
of  clouding  his  brow  with  anger,  and  sending  the  blood  into  his 
cheeks. 

"It  is  then  true  —  it  is  as  I  thought  and  feared  !  This  is, 
then,  only  another  Hurdis  —  another  spy,  self-appointed,  for  our 
destruction.  He  has  played  his  game  admirably,  but  not  per 
fectly.  Not  well  enough  for  success,  but  so  well  as  to  make  it 
necessary  that  we  should  silence  him  for  ever.  It  is  needful 
for  our  own  safety  that  we  do  this  —  we  can  spare  no  longer  — 
his  doom  is  written." 

He  conned  the  papers  closely;  one  of  which,  a  blank  com 
mission  with  the  signature  of  Governor  Runnels,  he  tore  into 
fragments  and  flung  into  the  fireplace.  The  others  comprised 
a  brief  narration  of  his  own  doings  as  Clem  Foster  in  Alabama ; 
copies  of  affidavits  sworn  to  in  that  state,  and  a  list  of  names  — 
a  copy  of  which  had  been  given  to  Rawlins  by  Vernon  the. 
night  before  —  of  suspected  persons  in  Mississippi.  These  called 
for  the  more  serious  attention  of  the  outlaw. 

"These  must  fly,"  he  muttered,  as  he  looked  over,  and  pen 
cilled  off,  a  portion  of  the  list ;  "  the  neighborhood  is  closely 
settled  and  will  soon  be  too  hot  to  hold  them ;  but  they 


BORDEIl    BEAGLES. 

stave  off  danger  here  on  the  Big  Black  for  a  year  or  two  more 
Still  it  will  be  as  well  to  warn  off  some  of  the  more  black  and 
crooked  —  fellows  who  can  not  even  look  honest,  may  well  run 
in  advance  of  the  danger.  But  Cane  Castle  will  hide  all  their 
vices,  and  that  is  as  far  as  they  need  go  for  the  present.  This 
agent  of  his  excellency  —  would  he  had  come  himself — once 
fairly  salted,  and  we  shall  have  no  trouble  for  some  time  to 
come.  There  are  few  in  Mississippi  prepared  to  take  his  place, 
and  manage  his  cards  so  cunningly  as  almost  to  blind  so  old  a 
stagei  as  myself.  His  game's  up  —  and  there's  an  end  of  it. 
Nawls  will  send  him  to  Vicksburg,  and  the  'beagles'  will  take 
him  by  the  way.  Then  follows  his  execution,  in  tcrrorem,  for 
the  benefit  of  our  own  doubtful  and  soft -hearted  fellows  in  the 
swamp.  He  will  die  by  our  laws  —  he  has  assumed  the  toils 
of  the  spy  —  he  incurs  its  dangers;  and  our  own  require  that 
we  should  show  no  mercy.  And  now  for  a  little  more  hypoc 
risy.  I  would  know  why  he  seeks  this  traveller,  Wilson  —  and 
the  hurry  of  Wilson  to  leave  old  Badger's  is  no  less  curious.  T 
must  sound  him  on  these  subjects." 

With  exemplary  composure  he  proceeded  to  the  apartment 
of  Vernon,  which  was  still  occupied  by  the  physician  and  the 
Alabamian,  and  placing  himself  on  one  side  of  the  patient,  con 
gratulated  him  on  his  improved  looks  and  restoration.  The 
compliment  was  a  very  suspicious  one,  for,  by  this  time,  our 
hero  felt  himself  seriously  ill  —  he  could  not  mistake  the  heat 
of  his  frame;  the  bounding  quickness  of  his  pulse;  the  parch 
ing  thirst  which  assailed  him  ;  the  soreness  of  his  head;  and 
the  painful  throbbing  of  his  wounded  thigh.  These  were  evi 
dences,  even  if  the  physician  had  been  absent,  sufficient  to 
make  him  aware  of  his  true  condition. 

I  thank  you,"  he  said,  "but  I  am  not  better.  I  feel  ill — „ 
seriously  ill ;  and  this  painful  accusation,  this  troublesome  ai 
rest!  So  strange,  so  sudden  and  startling:  —  I  trust,  gentle 
men" — looking  round  as  he  spoke  —  "I  trust  that  you  believe 
me  guiltless  of  this  crime  —  nay,  it  must  be  so  —  the  officers  are 
gone  —  they  have  been  convinced  of  their  mistake,  I  suppose." 

"Mistake!"    said    Saxon,   with    an    incredulous    expression, 
'  what  mistake,  Mr.  Vernon  ?" 

"  Why,  sir,  mistake   of  facts  or   of  person.     Did   they  not 


PROGRKriS    Oi'1    DISCOVERY A    SNARL.  25 

arrest  me  for  murder  —  the  murder  of  Horsey,  poor  fel 
low  r 

"Yes,  sir;  but  if  be  a  mistake,  it  is  one  of  those  mistakes 
tli at  they  continue  obstinately  to  persist  in.  They  are  in  the 
adjoining  hall.  It  was  on  my  pledge  that  you  should  be  forth 
coming  that  they  consented  to  leave  you  in  privacy  until  you 
might  be  recovered  from  your  injuries." 

"  I  thank  you,  sir,  again  I  thank  you,"  replied  Vernon ;  "  it 
is  due  to  the  kindness  of  your  interposition,  and  to  the  attention 
of  these  gentlemen,  that  I  should  assure  you  that  1  am  wholly 
guiltless  of  the  crime  which  is  charged  against  me  —  that,  so  far 
from  seeking  to  harm  the  unfortunate  young  man,  whose  fate  I 
have  heard  of  for  the  first  time  from  this  proceeding,  I  should 
feel  myself  bound  by  every  duty  and  feeling  to  succor  and  to 
save  him.  He  is  a  wild,  hairbrained,  but  worthy  youth,  whose 
family  is  good,  and  whose  old  father  lias  treated  me  with  kind 
ness.  That  I  may  be  suspected  is,  perhaps,  not  so  strange:  — 
we  travelled  together,  and  separated  suddenly  —  he  taking  the 
lower  road  for  Benton  at  the  forks,  and  I  the  upper,  which,  with 
some  delays  and  interruptions,  has  led  me  here.  That  he  may 
have  fallen  a  victim  to  some  wanton  assassin  is,  perhaps,  little 
surprising  in  a  neighborhood  in  which  crime  is  said  to  be  so 
frequent;  but  that  I  should  be  seriously  held  to  answer  for  his 
death,  is  a  matter  too  idle  to  annoy  me  much  or  make  me  ap 
prehensive  of  its  consequences.  I  have  no  sort  of  doubt,  gen 
tlemen,  that  an  examination  before  the  magistrate  will  result  in 
my  immediate  discharge  from  arrest." 

The  company  unanimously  expressed  the  hope  that  such 
might  be  the  result ;  and  Jamison  loudly  declared  his  convic 
tion  of  it. 

"The  truth's  in  your  face,  Mr.  Vernon  —  I  saw  it  from  the 
first,  and  that  made  me  so  willing  to  give  Paddy  O'Raffeuty  or 
O'Dougherty,  or  whatever  0'  it  may  be,  an  ugly  hoist,  for  the 
fiberty  he  took  with  you,  bringing  you  soon  to  an  acquaintance, 
all  on  one  side,  between  your  head  and  his  shillelah.  He'll  not 
do  it  again,  I'm  thinking,  not  while  Dick  Jamison  is  bystand- 
ing.  I  know  well  enough  you'll  get  out  of  this  scrape,  so  cheer 
up,  Mr.  Vernon.  I'll  see  you  out  of  the  mire  while  I've  got 
any  footing  to  stand  on,  and  when  I  ha'n't,  why  I'll  walk  the 


260 


BORDER  BEAGLES. 


bog  with  you.     D e,  but  I  like  your  face,  and  there's  no 

telling  what  I'll  do  and  say  for  a  fellow  I  like.     I'll  run,  ride, 
talk,  and  fight  for  my  friend  ;  and  when  he's  a  stranger  like 
myself  in  a  new  place,  that's  the  very  time  that  I  can't  desert 
him.     So  count  upon  Dick  Jamison  while  the  breath's  in  him." 
The  expressive  eye  of  Vernon  made  an  acknowledgment  to 
the  hearty  volunteer,  which  his  lips  did  not  articulate;  and  his 
hand  freely  returned  the  pressure  which  the  latter  gave  him  as 
he  concluded  his  characteristic  speech.     The  sympathies  of  the 
stranger,  however  rudely  expressed,  were  grateful  to  the  youth 
in  the  feeling  of  discontent  and  depression  which  was  natural 
to  his  condition  ;  and  the  unstudied  frankness  of  his  utterance 
was  only  an  additional  proof  that  his  sentiments  came  from  the 
fellow's  heart.     The  reflections  of  Vernon's  mind  were  nowise 
cheering  at  this  moment.     His  course,  upon  which  he  had  en 
tered  with  so   much  confidence  arid  hope,  had  been  attended 
with   disasters  from   the  beginning,  produced,  not  through  his 
own  measures  or  management,  but  by  influences  entirely  for 
eign.     Pursued  by  Horsey  and  annoyed  by  his  prying  curiosity 
-scarcely  freed  from   him,  before  suffering  in   an  encounter 
into  which  he  was  forced  by  a  sense  of  duty  which  no  honora 
ble  mind  could  shrink  from  ;  and  now,  arrested  and  suffering 
for  the  alleged  murder  of  the  man  whose  presence  was  so  per 
fectly  unsought  and  so  undesirable: -these  continuous  events 
seemed   to   hold   forth  auguries  the  most  inauspicious  to  that 
adventure  which   had   been   undertaken    with    so    much    hope. 
The  voice  of  kindness  came  to  him,  therefore,  at  the  moment 
of  his  despondency,  with  an  influence  to  be  remembered ;  and 
he  felt  that  he  was  not  altogether  desolate  while  the   sturdy 
Alabamian  was  beside  his  couch.     The  truth,  which  was  de 
clared  by  his  frank  utterance,  and  denoted  in  the  manly  and 
not-to-be-mistaken  expression  of  his  features,  won  instant  confi 
deuce  from  our  hero;  and  remembering  one  of  his  leading  ob 
jficts,  he  thought  to  himself,  "Here  is  another  nlly  —  here  i 
another  to  join  with  me  in  the  sHfes  that  may  follow  any  pur 
suit  of  this  banditti." 

The  wounds  upon  Vernon's  thigh  were  re-dressed  -the  irra- 
tation  of  the  part  soothed  by  the  application  of  external  dres 
sings;  his  head,  which  had  suffered  a  severe  contusion,  was 


PROGRESS   OF   DISCOVERY — A   SNAIIL.  201 

properly  bandaged,  a  nostrum  given  intended  to  lessen  the 
fever,  in  the  attainment  of  which  object,  a  vein  was  also  opened. 
This  done,  Doctor  Saunders  proceeded  to  silence  the  worthy 
Alabamian,  whose  tongue  was  one  of  those  habitually  restless 
ones,  which,  suspended  in  the  roof  of  his  mouth,  rather  than  the 
gap  of  his  throat,  are  for  ever  wagging  from  side  to  side  in  the 
fruitless  hope  of  finding  a  place  of  rest. 

"We  must  leave  our  patient  in  quiet,  gentlemen  —  his  fever 
is  high  —  his  mind  is  not  at  ease,  and  the  necessity  of  the  case 
must  be  my  apology  for  insisting  upon  his  being  left  to  himself." 

"  I  will  but  say  to  the  officers  that  I  yield  him  to  their 
custody,"  said  Saxon,  leading  the  way  to  the  bar-room. 

"  They  can  not  remove  him,"  said  the  physician. 

"  That  is  for  them  to  determine,"  was  the  reply  of  the  out 
law. 

"  It  will  be  an  unnecessary  and  wanton  cruelty  if  they  do. 
The  young  man  can  not  escape  if  he  would.  He  is  really  too 
feeble.  They  may  watch  him,  and  be  at  hand,  but  must  not 
intrude  upon  him." 

"  I'll  be  d d  if  they  do  V1  was  the  asseveration  of  the  Ala- 

bamian,  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  use  the  instrument  upon 
which,  the  interdict  of  the  physic' an,  while  in  the  chamber  of 
the  patient,  sat  with  a  very  unpleasant  weight.  The  keen  eye 
of  Saxon  surveyed  him  for  an  instant  with  no  very  pleasant 
expression,  but  he  said  nothing ;  while  the  otker  proceeded  to 
declare  that,  law  or  no  law,  he  would  see  that  none  but  himself 
should  approach  the  sick  man's  chamber,  and  "  As  for  taking 
him  out,"  he  continued,  "  until  he's  willing  to  go  himself,  let  me 
see  any  one  try  it,  and  if  he  don't  bear  a  hickory,  his  mother 
never  bore  a  fool." 

The  arrival  of  another  party  suggested,  however,  a  new  plan 
of  arrangements.  This  was  no  other  than  the  traveller  whom 
Vernon  had  pursued  —  certainly,  with  no  sort  of  apprehension 
on  the  part  of  the  former,  that  such  had  been  the  case.  Old 
Wilson  entered  with  timid,  trembling  footsteps  —  a  cautious 
tread,  as  if  walking  upon  eggs — and  a  furtive  glance  thrown  from 
side  to  side  as  the  different  groups  of  the  bar-room  met.  his  eyes, 
which  denoted  either  a  very  suspicious  temper,  or  one  strangely 
unused  to  the  devil-may-care  freedoms  of  a  public  tavern.  As 


BORDER   BEAGLES. 

he  advanced  lie  encountered  the  three  persons  who  had  just 
emerged  from  the  passage-way  into  the  public  hall,  and  whose 
more  respectable  appearance,  in  garb  and  manner,  than  that  of 
the  persons  generally  by  whom  the  tavern  was  filled,  naturally 
prompted  the  visiter  to  address  his  inquiry  to  them. 

"Gentlemen,  I  would  like  to  know  —  sorry  to  stop  you  — 
but  is  there  not  a  young  gentleman  here  by  the  name  of 
Vernon?" 

"  There  is,"  answered  Jamison,  who  already  assumed  the 
entire  representation  of  his  new  friend. 

"  Can  I  be  suffered  to  see  and  speak  with  him  1"  inquired 
Wilson. 

"  I  ain  afraid  not,"  replied  the  physician.  "  Mr.  Verr.on  has 
suffered  some  serious  hurts  which  have  brought  on  fever.  Even 
the  noise  of  this  bar-room  is  unfavorable  to  him  in  his  present 
situation.  His  mind  is  very  much  excited,  and  inclines  to 
wander.  I  would  prefer  that  he  should  not  be  disturbed." 

There  was  some  eagerness  in  the  expression  of  Wilson's  face, 
and  in  his  manner,  as  he  replied : —  „ 

"  I  have  heard  of  his  hurts,  sir,  and  as  I  partly  know  him, 
and  believe  him  to  be  a  worthy  young  man,  I  came  to  propose 
that  he  might  be  taken  to  my  house,  while  his  illness  lasted. 
It  will  be  more  quiet  than  he  can  possibly  find  it  here,  and — " 

"  You,  perhaps,  have  not  heard  of  the  accusation  against 
him  ?"  was  the  re/nark  of  Saxon. 

"  And  what  the  d — 1  has  that  to  do  with  the  gentleman's 
offer,  I'd  like  to  know  ?"  was  the  fierce  demand  of  the  Ala- 
baniian.  "  I'm  sure  nobody  who  knows  Vernon  would  think  him 
guilty  of  the  thing  after  his  own  lips  had  told  'em  he  hadn't  done 
it." 

Jamison  spoke  for  his  new  friend  as  sturdily  as  if  they  had 
been  intimate  a  thousand  years.  His  manner  startled  and 
somewhat  aroused  the  outlaw.  This  might  be  seen  in  the  kind 
ling  and  flashing  of  his  eye,  and  in  the  sudden  glow  that  flushed 
his  cheek ;  but  however  much  he  might  have  been  moved  to 
resent  it,  there  were  other  considerations,  much  more  strong, 
that  counselled  forbearance;  and  the  reply  of  Mr.  Wilson  to 
his  inquiry,  interposed,  as  it  were,  between  himself  and  the 
man  who  had  shown  himself  so  susceptible  of  provocation. 


PROGRESS    OP    DISCOVERY — A    SNARL. 

"I  have  heard  of  the  charge  to  which  you  allude,  and  which, 
T  think  with  the  gentleman  here,  must  be  quite  groundless.  It 
was  the  rumor  which  reached  me  of  his  arrest,  and  of  his  illness, 
but  a  little  time  ago,  by  which  I  was  informed  that  he  was  in 
ray  neighborhood ;  and  the  thought  that  he  might  be  removed 
with  advantage  to  my  dwelling — " 

"  This  is  an  offer  not  to  be  disregarded,"  said  the  physician 
interrupting  him ;  "  and  if  the  officers  would  permit  his  re 
moval  — " 

"Permit  it  —  they  must,  and  be  d d  to  them.     Look  you, 

men,  this  here  prisoner  of  yours — he's  in  a  d d  bad  way,  and 

will  be  worse,  unless  you  let  us  carry  him  to  the  old  gentleman's 
house.  See  you,  I'll  be  bail  for  his  coming  whenever  he's  able 
to  see  the  justice  ;  or  you  can  stay  here  and  keep  on  the  lookout 
for  him,  and  for  me  too  if  you  choose,  for  I  won't  budge  till  the 
lad  gets  better.  What  do  you  say,  you  man-catching  rascals,  to 
being  civil  for  awhile  —  it'll  be  nothing  out  of  your  pockets,  I 
can  tell  you,  while  Dick  Jamison  has  anything  in  his." 

The  constables,  at  whose  approach  Mr.  Wilson  might  have 
been  seen  to  shrink  with  some  trepidation,  were  not  disposed  to 
consent  so  readily.  They  hemmed  and  hawed  awhile  —  mut 
tered  together  as  if  in  consultation  —  spoke  aloud  of  their  duties 
and  the  great  risk  and  responsibility,  and,  from  their  delay  and 
reluctance,  were  rousing  up  the  choler  of  the  irritable  Ala 
bamian  to  a  new  outbreak  of  ferocious  friendship,  when  Saxon, 
to  whom  they  looked  entirely  for  their  cue,  quietly  remarked  :  — 

"  It  appears  to  me  that  the  officers  can  not  refuse  so  reasona 
ble  an  arrangement.  They  can  keep  as  close  a  watch  over  the 
prisoner  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Wilson  as  at  the  tavern,  and  the 
doctor's  opinion  that  the  young  man  can  not  fly  in  his  present 
situation,  and  should  be  free  from  noise,  ought  to  satisfy  them 
without  any  other  security ;  though,  if  they  need  any  other, 
I'm  ready  to  become  bound  in  bail  along  with  this  gentleman/' 

"  Will  you  ?"  said  Jamison  ;  "  well,  d — me,  you're  a  better 
fellow  than  I  thought  you,  after  all  —  so  give's  a  shake  of  your 
pawr  and  let  there  be  peace  between  us.  Well,  what  do  you 
sav>  vou  sharks  in  fresh  water,  have  you  got  your  senses  yet  ?" 

"  Faith,  we  must  let  the  jontleman  off  the  hook,  since  ye  all 
says  it,"  began  the  Irishman,  when  interrupted,  no  less  by 


264  BORDER  BEAGLES. 

the  stern  expressive  looks  of  Saxon,  than  by  the  sudden  burst 
of  his  former  opponent. 

"  Hillo  !  Dennis !  and  what  the  d — 1  have  you  got  to  do  in 
the  business,  my  lad  ?  Shut  up,  you  little  old  fellow  —  you 
have  no  right  to  speak  at  all  until  you  are  fairly  married  into 
a  new  family.  Get  you  gone  to  Polly  Whitesides,  and  let  her 
give  you  a  brush  up  before  you  dip  your  oar  into  another's 
navigation." 

And,  with  these  words,  the  now  good-humored  rowdy  clapped 
his  open  hand  as  an  effectual  stopper  on  the  widely-distended 
jaws  of  the  only  half-sober  son  of  St.  Patrick,  whose  brain  was 
just  in  that  condition  of  fermentation  when  lie  could  understand 
that  he  had  blundered,  though  in  what  respect  he  did  not  hope 
to  divine,  until  he  had  taken  an  additional  supply  of  the 
"  crather,"  or  utterly  freed  himself  from  the  control  of  tht 4 
which  he  had  already  swallowed. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

\BB    FOREST    REFUGE  —  GRIEFS    OF    GUILT  —  FEMININE    EREAM8 
BUDIANG    FANCIES. 

High-climbing  rock — low  sunless  dale — 
Sea — desert — what  do  these  avail  f — 
Oh,  take  her  anguish  arid  her  fears, 
Into  a  deep  recess  of  years." — WORDSWORTII 

THE  arrangement  thus  effected  needed  but  the  consent  of  the 
principal  party  to  its  immediate  operation;  and  Mr,  Wilson 
was  ushered  into  Vernon's  chamber  by  the  ready  aid  of  Dick 
Jamison.  Our  hero,  though  confused  by  his  application  as 
much  as  by  certain  medicines  which  had  been  administered  by 
Doctor  Saunders,  was  yet  not  insensible  to  the  advantages  in 
sundry  respects  which  the  contemplated  removal  might  afford 
him.  As  an  invalid,  with  the  possible  prospect  before  him 
of  a  protracted  illness,  it  promised  that  repose  and  quiet 
wh;ch  he  felt  would  be  grateful,  if  not  necessary  to  his  coudi 


THE   FOREST   REFUGE.  265 

tion ;  and  when  lie  reflected  on  the  probability  of  his  being 
able  to  secure  the  main  object  of  his  journey,  in  a  quiet  pacific 
manner,  and  by  degrees  which  would  neither  startle  nor  offend, 
he  could  not  mistake  the  course  which  he  should  at  once  adopt. 
But  still  he  hesitated,  nay  refused  ;  —  thanked  the  old  gentle 
man  for  his  hospitality  and  consideration  —  made  light  of  his 
own  services  previously  rendered,  and,  though  in  faltering  ac 
cents,  declared  himself  utterly  unwilling  to  transfer  the  cares 
of  a  sick  bed,  and  that  too  of  a  stranger,  to  the  household  of 
his  friendly  visiter,  and  to  the  great  interruption  of  its  domestic 
privacy  and  quiet. 

The  nice  and  jealous  sensibility  of  Harry  Vernon  was  busy 
to  produce  this  determination  ;  and  feelings  which  he  did  not 
then  seek  to  analyze  —  which  he  might  not  at  that  moment 
have  perceived  —  influenced  his  declared  resolution  when  all 
the  obvious  reasons  of  his  rnind  fought  against  it.  He  remem 
bered  the  lovely  daughter  of  the  defaulter;  and  when  he  re 
flected  that  it  might  become  necessary  to  expose  the  crime  of 
the  father,  he  was  unwilling  to  incur  the  reproaches  —  the  prob 
able  and  perhaps  well-founded  hostility  —  of  one  whose  favora 
ble  opinion  already  grew  in  his  mind  the  imbodied  standard  of 
a  becoming  excellence.  ^ 

But  the  reluctance  of  our  hero  warmed  the  manner  of  the  old 
man  to  something  like  persuasiveness  —  he  urged  many  good 
reasons  why  the  patient  should  consent  —  denied  the  inconveni 
ence  and  annoyance —  spoke  of  his  own  little  household  com 
forts —  and,  to  sum  up  all  in  brief,  assured  him  that  his  consent 
alone  would  make  easy  the  minds  of  himself  and  family,  since 
the  necessity  under  which  they  labored  of  attending  to  some 
pressing  interests  had  compelled  them  to  leave  their  preserver 
on  a  previous  occasion,  with  a  seeming  indifference  to  his  con 
dition  which  might  well  expose  them  to  the  charge  of  coldness 
and  ingratitude. 

The  objections  of  Vernon  gradually  vanished  when  he  heard 
from  the  lips  of  the  father  that  such  was  the  argument  of  his 
daughter  by  which  he  had  been  moved  to  the  offer;  and  it 
needed  but  the  reasseveration  of  Dr.  Saunders  that  the  removal 
was  full  of  promised  benefit  and  might  promote  his  more  speedy 
restoration,  to  induce  his  full  consent  to  the  arrangement. 

12 


266  BORDKU 

Behold  our  hero  then,  faiily  admitted  as  a  guest  in  the  dwfi 
ling  of  the  man  whom  lie,  pursued  as  a  fugitive. 

Two  days  only  had  passed  since  Mr.  Wilson  find  his  family 
had  become  occupants  of  the  same  household.  They  had  pur 
sued  their  way  to  this  secluded  and  lovely  spot,  with  direct 
steps,  from  the  moment  when  they  left  the  hospitable  dwelling 
of  the  rigid  methodist.  They  had  reached  it  late  in  the  even 
ing  of  the  same  day,  and  the  night  was  too  far  advanced  to  en 
able  them  to  behold  the  beauties  of  the  locality.  But  the  cot 
tage,  though  small,  Avas  neat,  and  furnished  with  a  larger  atten 
tion  to  those  things  which  are  classed  under  the  ordinary  term 
"  comforts,"  than  was  commonly  the  case  in  a  region  so  remote 
from  the  demands  of  fashionable  society.  Virginia  Wilson  be 
held  on  all  sides  those  little  items  in  the  shape,  of  carpet,  chim 
ney  ornament,  piano  and  guitar,  which,  if  they  do  not  of  them 
selves  secure  the  happiness  of  life,  at  least  contribute  somewhat  to 
its  good  humor  and  content.  But  the  circumstance  which  chiefly 
satisfied  her  on  the  night  of  their  arrival,  was  the  improved 
temper  and  cheerfulness  of  her  father.  While  on  the  road,  he 
had  exhibited  a  degree  of  querulousness  and  impatience  which 
she  had  never  perceived  in  him  before  the  commencement  of 
their  present  journey  ;  and  jjiis  temper  Avas  coupled  Avith  an 
air  of  precipitance  and  apprehension  —  a  seeming  distrust  of  all 
he  met  —  a  shrinking  that  looked  like  fear  from  all  he  encoun 
tered —  which  filled  her  OAVH  mind  with  apprehension,  and  made 
ner  at  moments  doubtful  whether  there  \vas  not  something  like 
mental  alienation  in  him — a  suggestion  of  her  fear  which  alone 
seemed  sufficient  to  account  for  a  course  of  conduct  and  manner 
such  as  he  had  never  shown  to  her  before. 

These  had  worn  away  in  great  degree  from  the  first  moment 
after  they  had  set  their  feet  on  their  neAAr  threshold.  The  natu 
ral  cheerfulness  of  the  father  seemed  restored,  lie  spoke  sooth 
ingly  and  tenderly,  as  if  desirous  to  compensate  his  children  for 
v/hat  they  had  been  made  to  suffer  in  their  journey  ;  and  the 
fond,  pliant  hearts  of  both  responded  to  his  cares,  and  grew 
glad  in  the  return  of  those  smiles  of  the  parent,  which  are  the 
sweetest  sunshine  to  the  devoted  and  dutiful  child. 

"Virginia,  Louisa,  my  dear  children,"  he  exclaimed,  folding 
them  in  his  arms  as  soon  as  the  first  en  res  and  excitements  of 


THE   FOREST   REFUGE.  267 

their  arrival  were  over,  and  when  they  remained  alone  together 
in  their  little  parlor,  "we  have  reached  our  resting-place  at  last 
—  henceforth,  my  dear  children,  this  is  to  he  your  home.  Luc- 
chesa  is  one  of  the  loveliest  spots  on  the  Mississippi,  and  I  have 
chosen  one  of  the  sweetest  spots  that  surround  Lucchesa.  Here, 
Virginia,  your  rambles  will  be  unimpeded  and  always  beautiful ; 
the  woods  are  thick  and  various,  and  filled  with  the  sweetest 
flowers ;  and  you  may  now  pursue  your  study  of  botany  with 
more  perfect  self-approbsttion,  since  you  will  find  abundant  vari 
eties  of  subjects  to  justify  your  love.  And  you,  Louisa  —  what 
will  you  say  to  these  little  hills  when  you  shall  see  them  ? 
They  will  seem  to  your  eyes,  which  have  never  seen  any  but 
the  dead  flats  of  the  low  country,  to  be  little  less  than  mountains 
Your  feet  will  tire  to  ascend  them  at  first,  but  after  a  little 
while  you  will  grow  wild  as  a  kid  in  your  rambles  —  there  will 
be  no  keeping  you  in." 

"  But,  father,"  said  the  child,  drawing  closer  to  the  old  man, 
"  the  woods  are  so  wild  and  strange  they  frighten  me  —  there's 
a  strange  noise  among  the  big  pines,  and  when  I  walk  among 
them  I  hear  sounds  that  seem  like  the  voices  of  spirits." 

"  It  is  the  wind,  my  child,  that  shakes  the  trees,  and  mur 
murs  when  it  presses  against  them  as  if  vexed  at  being  arrested. 
You  will  grow  used  to  that,  until  you  learn  to  like  it,  as  I  doubt 
not  your  sister  does  already.  What  say  you,  Virginia  ?" 

A  melancholy,  spiritual  smile,  which  passed  over  the  lips  and 
lightened  in  the  eyes  of  the  elder  maiden  for  an  instant,  was  his 
sufficient  answer*,  and  the  father  proceeded. 

"  Our  cottage  is  not  one  of  the  best  in  Lucchesa,  but  it  was 
the  best  that  I  could  buy.  We  will  improve  it  as  we  can.  You 
will  see  in  the  daylight  that  it  lies  on  the  side  of  a  little-  depres 
sion  that  we  low-country  people  may  almost  call  a  valley.  It 
is  so  low  that  you  can  only  see  it  from  the  top  of  the  hills ;  and 
the  houses  of  Lucchesa  can  scarcely  be  seen  at  all  from  the  top 
of  ours.  We  have  a  little  garden,  Louisa,  and  you  shall  tend 
the  flowers,  while  I  raise  the  squashes  and  the  potatoes  and  the 
cucumbers.  Our  gallery  [piazza]  runs  round  three  sides  of  the 
house,  the  north  only  excepted ;  and  though  we  lie  in  the  val 
ley,  we  have  a  sweet  and  extended  prospect  of  hill-slopes  on 
every  side.  The  woods  seem  naturally  to  open  into  vistas,  and 


268  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

these  1  will  improve,  until  the  cottage  sliall  ue  the  centre  from 
which  a  hundred  avenues  of  sight  shall  diverge,  and  into  which 
they  shall  gather  from  every  point  of  the  compass.  But  enough 
of  plans  for  to-night.  Louisa,  your  eyes  grow  heavy  in  spite 
of  all  I  can  tell  you.  Kiss  me,  my  child,  and  then  find  out  your 
chamber." 

The  child,  drowsy,  but  still  striving  to  be  attentive,  did  as 
she  was  bidden.  The  elder  sister  was  left  alone  with  her 
father,  whose  mood  grew  less  cheerful  with  the  absence  of  the 
child,  and  whose  manner  became  far  less  easy.  For  a  few  mo 
ments  a  silence  that  was  painful  to  both  succeeded  her  depart 
ure.  Mr.  Wilson  rose  from  his  seat  and  paced  the  room  with 
emotions  that  were  evidently  oppressive.  Twice,  thrice,  did 
his  step  falter  and  seem  about  to  pause  as  he  passed  before  his 
daughter,  who,  with  head  leaning  upon  her  palm,  seemed  op 
pressed  with  emotions  also,  which,  if  not  so  exciting,  were,  per 
haps,  scarcely  less  oppressive  than  his.  At  length,  as  if  over 
coming  a  strong  reluctance,  the  father  stopped  beside  her,  drew 
a  chair,  and  taking  her  hand  in  his,  addressed  her  as  follows  : — 

"  Virginia,  my  dear  child,  you  have  said  nothing." 

"Father,  what  should  I  say  —  what  would  you  have  me  say?" 
replied  the  daughter,  the  cloudy  sadness  deepening  on  her  lovely 
countenance. 

"That  you  repine  not  —  that  you  are  satisfied  —  that  you  are 
happy.  See  you  not,  my  child,  that  the  same  paternal  love 
which  has  striven  so  much  to  make  you  happy  before,  lias 
spared  nothing  here  within  the  compass  of  the  country's  re 
sources  to  supply  what  you  may  have  left  behind  ?" 

"But  wherefore  are  they  left  behind,  my  father  ?  Where 
fore  have  we  left  the  home  where  the  same  pleasures,  if  you 
call  them  such,  were  already  ours?  Was  there  nothing  in  the 
old  home  to  endear  us  to  it  —  was  it  not  endeared  to  us  by  the 
happy  life  we  had  led  in  it  —  was  it  not  endeared  to  us  by  the 
very  death  of  her  —  that  beloved  mother  —  who  made  so  much 
of  the  happiness  we  have  lost  —  whose  loss  made  so  much 
dearer  the  little  we  had  left  ?" 

"And  was  it  not  good  reason  that  we  should  fly,  my  daugh 
ter,  from  a  dwelling  where  we  had  known  that  loss  ?" 

"Alas^my  father,  it  could  not  have  been  for  that  reason  that 


THE    FOREST    REFUGE.  269 

you  left  our  home  —  our  home  which  death  itself  had  seemed  to 
sanctify.  Years  have  passed  since  that  cruel  hour  of  parting, 
and  the  pang  had  passed  away  in  the  bitter  memory  of  joys  felt 
without  a  pang,  and  the  assuring  hope  which  was  so  cheering  to 
us  all,  that  she  who  suffered  was  now  sainted  beyond  suffering. 
Oh,  no  !  dearest  father,  my  heart  will  not  hear  this  reason  — 
my  mini  can  not  receive  it.  There  must  be  another  cause,  and 
that  cause,  my  father,  is  one  which  it  doubly  grieves  me  to 
believe,  has  made  whiter  than  ever  the  hair  upon  your  foie- 
head  " 

"  Virginia,  my  child,  why  will  you  press  me  thus  ?"  cried  the 
father,  striding  hastily  along  the  floor,  with  his  hands  clasped 
above  his  eyes,  as  if  to  shut  from  sight  the  mournful  and  in 
quiring  expression  of  her  countenance. 

"  Because  I  am  a  child  no  longer,"  was  her  reply,  as,  darting 
from  her  seat,  she  rushed  toward  him, 'and,  catching  one  of  his 
hands  in  both  of  hers,  sunk  upon  her  knees  with  a  passionate 
manner  which  well  accompanied  the  earnest  and  emphatic  lan 
guage  which  she  employed,  and  which,  while  clinging  to  him, 
she  continued  to  pour  forth. 

"  Because  I  am  a  child  no  longer  —  I  am  a  grown  woman  — 
I  can  both  think  and  feel.  I  can  surely  understand  the  sor 
rows  that  I  still  must  share,  and  if  I  understand,  my  father,  may 
I  not  help  to  relieve  them  ?  Were  my  dear  mother  living,  I 
should  look  to  her  for  the  truth  when  sorrow  troubled  and  dan 
ger  followed  your  footsteps  ;  but  in  her  absence  I  must  take  her 
place,  and  I  implore,  nay,  I  claim  it  as  my  right,  my  father  — 
to  know  what  grief,  what  threatening  danger,  has  driven  us  to 
this  wilderness,  where  the  forests  are  yet  almost  as  wild  as  at 
their  birth ;  where  we  have  no  society,  and  where  we  see  no 
friends." 

"And  can  it  be  for  the  absence  of  society — nay,  can  it  be 
even  for  the  loss  of  friends,  Avhen  her  father  and  her  sister  are 
still  left  her  —  that  I  hear  these  questions  —  that  I  witness  this 
affliction  of  my  daughter?"  was  the  answer  —  an  answer,  the 
burden  of  which  did  not  represent  the  real  conviction  in  the 
father's  mind,  but  which  enabled  him  to  evade  the  more  search 
ing  inquiries  which  the  first  portion  of  her  speech  had  eon- 
veyed. 


270  HUUDEU 

"No!"  she  exclaimed,  rising  to  her  feet,  "as  Heaven  is  my 
help  and  hope,  dear  father,  I  answer  'No  !'  It  is  not  the  little 
circle  which  I  have  left,  nor  the  few  friends  for  whom  I  haul 
sympathy  and  attachment,  that  gives  me  cause  of  sorrow,  how 
ever  their  loss  may  at  moments  occasion  feelings  of  regret  ; 
nor  is  the  wilderness  into  which  we  have  wandered  so  uncon 
genial  to  my  tastes  and  habits  as  to  provoke  inquietude  and  an 
noyance.  I  think  not  of  these  in  the  conviction  that  you  are 
unhappy  —  that  a  secret  cause  of  dread  and  danger  hangs  about 
you  which  makes  you  so  often  heedless  of  my  love  and  indif 
ferent  to  my  endearments.  Nay,  shake  not  your  head,  my 
father  —  that  smile  does  not  deceive  me.  You  require  me  to  be 
happy,  to  be  at  ease,  and  find  satisfaction  arid  pleasure  in  the 
dwelling  which  you  have  found  in  Lucchesa,  and  the  comforts 
which  your  customary  care  has  gathered  about  us.  I  answer 
you  that  I  will,  so  soon  afc  I  find  that  you  derive  pleasure  and 
content  from  the  same  sources.  Let  me  see  you  at  ease,  and 
you  shall  find  me  so  ;  but  while  your  brow  is  clouded  —  while 
your  air  and  movements  denote  a  secret  apprehension  of  evil,  I 
can  not  but  share  the  cloud"  upon  your  brow,  and  my  apprehen 
sions  grow  only  the  greater  because  I  can  neither  see  nor 
guard  against  the  coming  of  the  danger  which  you  fear.  Let  me 
know  all,  my  father.  Give  me  the  knowledge  of  this  mystery 
—  for  there  is  mystery  —  and  rely  upon  me  to  soothe  your  sor 
rows,  though  I  may  not  avert  their  cause.  Rely  upon  me  to 
share  those  griefs  with  satisfaction  which  now  bring  me  nothing 
but  terror  and  despondency." 

"You  know  not  what  you  ask,  my  child!"  cried  the  father, 
hoarsely.  "  What  if  I  should  answer  ?  What  if,  foolishly 
persuaded  by  your  entreaties,  I  should  reveal  the  cause  of  my 
sorrows  —  nay,  to  silence  you  at  once,  what  if  my  revelations 
brought  you  shame  along  with  sorrow  ?  Ha  !  do  you  shrink  — 
do  you  tremble?  —  Would  you  still  hear  —  Virginia,  would  you 
still  listen  to  a  narration  of  guilt,  which  would  make  your  sor 
row  less  endurable  ?  Speak  !  shall  I  now  relate  what  you  have 
been  so  curious  to  hear  1" 

"Guilt!"  exclaimed  the  daughter,  with  feeble  accents  and  a 
shrinking,  sinking  pain.  "No!  no!  It  can  not  be  —  there  is 
no  guilt  —  there  can  be  no  shame.  These  are  cruel  words,  my 


THE    FOilEbT    ilLFUGK.  271 

father;  do  not  again  speak  tliem,  I  implore  yon  —  forgive  me,, 
forgive  me  —  but  you  were  so  serious  just  now,  when  you  spoke, 
that  I  almost  believed  you.  Tell  me  your  afflictions,  but  tell 
me  not  that  there  is  guilt  and  shame,  which,  indeed,  I  well 
know  there  can  not  be. 

"  Enough  !  Press  me  not  further,  Virginia,"  continued  the 
father,  recovering  his  calmness  in  some  degree,  and,  with  some 
effort,  smoothing  the  excited  expression  of  those  features,  which, 
almost  convulsed  a  moment  before,  had  nearly  convinced  his 
daughter  of  the  truth  of  the  general  confession  he  had  made. 
"  I  trust  that  you  will  never  know  that  guilt  or  shame  could  be 
coupled  with  your  father's  memory  and  image — -" 

"And  yet,  my  father,  this  change  of  name." 

She  spoke  with  tremulous  accents,  and  a  renewal  of  that  look 
of  shrinking  apprehensiveness  which  denoted  the  bewildered 
state  of  her  judgment,  warring  with  her  feelings  and  desires; 
unwilling  to  believe  aught  that  could  degrade  or  lessen  the 
worth  of  one  whom  she  was  no  less  bound  to  venerate  than 
willing  to  love,  and  yet  the  mystery  of  whose  conduct  left  her 
utterly  doubtful  in  which  direction  to  incline  her  faith. 

"  Policy,  my  daughter,  need  have  no  association  with  either 
guilt  or  shame,"  replied  the  father,  evasively,  and  by  a  general 
remark,  to  which  there  could  be  no  exception  as  such.  "  When 
I  tell  you,"  he  continued,  "  that  the  assumption  of  another 
name  is  necessary  to  my  present  interests,  you  are  not  to  imply 
anything  dishonorable  or  unworthy  in  the  change.  There  are 
motives  which  justify  —  there  are  reasons  which  make  it  neces 
sary." 

"  Ah,  my  father,  but  there  are  no  reasons  which  should  make 
you  deny  your  confidence  to  your  daughter,"  was  the  prompt 
reply.  She,  at  once,  seized  upon  the  true  and  only  point  at 
issue  between  them,  which  she  urged  with  as  great  a  degree  of 
earnestness  as  became  the  relationship  between  them. 

"  I  believe  you  that  there  are  motives  which  require  you  to 
do  this  ;  but,  surely,  my  dear  father,  you  can  neither  deny  my 
interest  in  a  knowledge  of  these  motives,  nor  my  prudence  in 
reserving  them  from  exposure  as  carefully  as  yourself.  Give  to 
my  love,  dear  father,  that  reliance  which  it  has  evermore  given 
to  you," 


272  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

"You  ask  too  much,  Virginia  ;  you  are  yet  but  a  child  to  me 
There  are  many  things  which  are  neither  becoming  nor  neces 
sary  for  a  woman  to  know  —  which,  indeed,  she  could  not  know 

—  could  not  understand.     It  is  enough  that  this  is  one  of  there 

—  let  me  hear  no  more  of  this." 
"Father!" 

"Nay,  my  child,  I  mean  not  to  be  stern  —  I  would  not  be 
angry  —  biit  this  is  a  point  upon  which  you  are  too  earnest  - 
too   much   disposed  to  insist  —  of   which   you   speak    too   fre 
quently." 

"It  is  only  because  it  is  a  constant  thought,  my  father  —  a 
painful  thought  —  a  doubt  —  a  fear." 

"  Let  it  be  so  no  longer,  my  child.  Do  you  not  see  that  I 
have  grown  cheerful  since  I  have  reached  Lucchesa  ?  You 
do  not  see  me  apprehensive  now  that  we  are  in  a  place  of 
safety." 

"  Safety  !"  was  the  natural  exclamation.  "  And  was  the 
danger  then  so  near  us  ?" 

"  Nay,  how  can  you  ask,  Virginia,  when  but  three  days  ago 
we  all  lay  at  the  mercy  of  a  gang  of  robbers  ?" 

A  deep  sigh  escaped  from  the  lips  of  the  serious  maiden,  but 
she  said  nothing.  She  saw  that  her  father  strove  to  deceive 
her,  and  she  forbore  any  further  reference  to  a  topic  which  he 
was  so  anxious  to  exclude,  even  at  the  expense  of  truth.  He 
saw  her  conjecture  and  sickened  as  he  did  so  ;  but  he  could  say 
little  or  nothing  to  remove  it ;  and  conscious  of  his  feebleness 
in  this  respect,  and  of  the  inadequacy  of  any  art  or  argument, 
short  of  a  frank  confession,  to  do  away  with  her  apprehensions, 
he  resorted  to  the  humbler  policy  of  seeking  to  divert  her  mind 
by  reference  to  other  objects.  With  a  general  knowledge  of 
the  feminine  nature,  in  certain  minor  respects,  such  as  their  love 
for  petty  pleasures,  he  strove  to  engage  her  mind  in  such  mat 
ters  as  might  amuse  rather  than  employ  it.  But  in  this,  he 
soon  perceived,  from  the  quiet  indifference  of  her  answers,  that 
he  must  fail ;  and  tired  of  his  task,  and  dissatisfied  with  him 
self,  he  forbore  all  further  effort,  and  the  lateness  of  the  hour 
•oon  furnished  a  sufficient  reason  for  their  separation  for  the 
evening. 

Virginia  Wilson  retired  tn  ]jo-v  couch,  but  sleep  was  slow  tt 


THE   FOREST   REFUGE.  273 

visit  her  that  night.  Her  heart  was  too  much  filled  with  the 
mysterious  circumstances  which  hung  around  her  father  —  her 
mind  too  much  troubled  with  the  apprehensions  which  had 
harassed  him  for  several  preceding  weeks  —  to  suffer  the  velvet- 
footed  deity  to  approach  her  without  warning,  and  to  obtain 
facile  possession,  at  an  early  hour,  of  his  accustomed  dominion. 
The  night  waned  slowly,  while  a  thousand  thoughts  and  con 
jectures,  chasing  each  other  with  as  much  rapidity,  if  not  with 
as  many  startling  transitions,  as  the  images  that  flit  over  the 
magic  glass  of  the  wizard,  made  her  mind  a  populous  world, 
where  all  was  commotion  and  much  was  strife.  She  thought, 
with  unspeakable  anguish,  of  the  reserve  of  her  father  on  those 
circumstances,  evidently  momentous,  which  had  troubled  him, 
and  still  troubled  him,  though,  under  their  terrors,  he  had  sought 
safety  in  a  region  still  wild,  and  still  the  abode  of  so  much  that 
was  barbarous. 

What  were  those  circumstances  1  —  and  had  he  indeed  found 
the  safety  which  he  admitted  had  been  the  object  of  his  aim? 
These  were  questions  that  did  not  cease  to  afflict  her,  because 
she  lacked  all  means  for  their  solution.  She  could  only  hope 
and  pray  —  she  could  only  resolve  to  assume  a  cheerfulness 
which  she  could  not  feel,  and  to  drive  from  her  mind,  by  the 
acquisition  of  an  early  interest  in  the  strange  world  to  which 
she  had  been  brought,  that  more  grateful  region  to  which  she 
had  been  accustomed.  This  was,  perhaps,  the  least  of  the 
mental  difficulties  in  the  way  of  Virginia  Wilson.  Hers  was 
one  of  those  commanding  intellects  that  depend  little  upon  the 
mere  externals  of  society  for  their  comforts  and  enjoyments  — 
that  make  place  and  fortune  subordinate  considerations  in  an 
estimate  of  life's  resources  and  rewards ;  and  require  peace  of 
mind  and  confidence  of  heart  in  their  own,  and  the  purity  of 
those  with  whom  their  lot  is  cast,  rather  than  the  praise  of  man 
or  the  plenty  and  profusion,  which,  to  so  large  a  portion  of  man 
kind,  constitute  the  "  be  all"  and  the  "  end  all"  of  existence. 
The  wilderness  had  no  terrors,  but  many  charms ;  and  to  one 
who  has  seen  quite  as  much  of  the  superficial  worthlessness  and 
empty  vanity  of  society,  as  of  its  harmony  and  grace,  it  was  no 
difficult  matter  to  find  a  charm  in  solitude  which  more  than 
atoned  for  the  fleeting  pleasures  sue  had  lost.  Under  the  c&~~ 

JJT 


274 


liUKDEK 


of  such  a  mind  as  hers,  and  surveyed  through  the  medium  of 
such  sweet  affections  as  ministered  around  the  altars  of  her  un 
selfish  heart,  the  wilderness  could  soon  be  made  to  blossom  as 
the  rose.  But  the  dread  of  that  nameless  danger  which  fol 
lowed  the  footsteps  of  her  only  living  parent,  haunted  her 
thoughts  with  a  continual  presence.  She  estimated  the  powers 
of  this  danger  from  the  terrors  which  had  possessed  her  father' 
mind,  and  the  very  failure  of  conjecture  to  answer  the  doubts 
of  her  constant  inquiry,  was  of  itself  a  source  of  wo,  which 
made  her  misery  the  greater. 

Still,  it  had  never  possessed  her  mind  until  the  evening  of  her 
arrival  in  Lucchesa,  and  until  the  occurrence  of  that  conversa 
tion  with  her  father,  a  portion  of  which  is  briefly  reported  above, 
that  there  could  be  any  shame  or  disgrace  in  connection  with 
the  necessity  which  had  driven  him  from  his  home.  It  u  ill  be 
remembered  with  what  earnestness  and  pleading  anguish  she 
had  exclaimed  against  the  brief  and  passing  suggestion  of  her 
father,  that  guilt  and  shame  were  coupled  with  his  sorrows. 
This  hint  —  though  afterward  evaded  and  denied  by  Mr.  Wil 
son,  when  he  beheld  the  effects  upon  his  child,  to  whom  he  did 
not  dare  communicate  the  truth  —  yet  took  possession  of  her 
mind,  when  the  silence  and  secrecy  of  her  chamber  left  her  at 
liberty  to  re-examine  the  subject;  and  when  she  recurred  to 
the  secret  and  precautionary  measures  which  her  father  had 
taker,  for  his  flight  from  Orleans  —  the  indirectness  of  his  course 
—  the  change  of  name  —  the  constant  apprehensions  which 
harassed  him,  making  him  as  imbecile  in  resolution  as  they 
made  him  acute  in  observation  —  her  fears,  faint  and  shadowy  at 
first,  grew  into  distinctness,  and  acquired  new  bulk  and  body 
with  every  additional  moment  of  reflection. 

She  could  now,  and  for  the  first  time,  readily  conceive  the 
motive  for  flight  and  fear,  for  that  startling  terror  which  at  mo. 
ments  enfeebled  his  limbs  and  covered  him  with  tremors  — 
which  made  his  voice  .sound  hollow  in  hia  throat  —  which  made 
his  eye  shrink  to  encounter  even  the  fond  and  affectionate  gaze  of 
hers  ;  and  which,  in  the  dialogue  already  brie£y  given,  had  moved 
him  to  those  few  but  incoheu>m  expressions,  convulsively  ut 
tered,  which  could  only  have  found  their  way  to  the  lips  of  one 
laboring  under  insanity  or  guilt.  That  he  was  not  insane  she 


Tilt;    l-OKi->.l     11LFUGK.  '-.•"» 

knew tli.it  In;  \vns  guilty,  the  fear  was  rapidly  growing  into  a 

faith  within  her.  But  of  what  was  lie  guilty  ?  Strange  to  say, 
the  difficulty  became  as  great  as  ever  when  she  reached  this 
stage  of  conjecture,  or  conviction ;  and,  after  a  vain  effort,  by  a 
reconsideration  of  all  the  subjects  attending  his  movements 
from  Orleans,  to  arrive  at  such  hypotheses  of  the  particular 
crime  for  which  he  fled,  as  would  seem  reasonable  to  her 
thought,  she  gave  up  the  effort  in  sheer  exhaustion,  not  without 
a  lurking  dread  that,  in  a  moment  of  passion,  he  might  have 
stricken  some  enemy  to  the  ground,  and  forfeited  his  own  life 
in  atonement  for  that  of  his  fellow.  Not  for  a  single  instant 
did  she  fancy  that  he  had  been  faithless  to  his  public  trust  — 
that  he  had  incurred  the  scorn  of  all  good  men  through  a  misera 
ble  appetite  for  gold. 

Still,  though  dismissing,  as  well  as  she  might,  the  distresses 
of  her  father's  situation  from  her  thoughts,  she  found  it  difficult 
to  win  the  slumbers  that  she  wooed.  Her  mind  had  been  too 
much  excited  by  events  and  scenes  which  were  new  to  the  even 
and  unbroken  currents  of  her  ordinary  existence,  to  sink  into 
quiet  and  leave  her  to  repose ;  and  the  new  world  in  which  she 
found  herself,  and  the  circumstances,  some  of  them  exciting  and 
startling  enough,  which  had  occurred  on  their  journey,  called 
for  brief  review.  Some  of  these  were  like  a  dream  —  the  flitting 
shadow  of  a  disordered  image,  such  as  gathers  before  the  eye 
of  a  drowsy  fancy,  and  fills  the  mind  with  conflicting  impres 
sions.  Yet  there  was  one  image  that  lay  at  the  bottom  of  all 
others  —  which  rose  last  to  her  survey,  and  lingered  long  after 
all  the  rest  had  departed  —  which  was  neither  indistinct  nor 
imperfect  —  which  stood  proudly  and  nobly  before  the  eye  of 
her  imagination,  and  on  the  pure  tablets  of  her  memory  —  alone, 
unmixed  with  any  other  form  or  fancy  —  a  controlling,  com 
manding,  imperial  presence.  This  was  the  image  of  Vernon. 
She  saw  him  once  more  as,  bounding  from  the  wood,  he  rushed 
forward  without  fear  to  the  rescue  of  her  father.  She  heard 
the  clear,  silvery  accents  of  his  voice,  sweet,  though  stern,  ac 
he  shouted  to  his  companion  to  follow,  and  to  the  robbers  as  he 
pursued.  She  beheld  the  grace  of  all  his  movements,  as,  bend 
ing  in  the  saddle,  he  passed  the  carriage  at  full  spp,ed  in  ehise 
of  the  assailants,  though  already  wounded ;  ana  a  sudaen 


276  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

tremor  was  renewed  at  her  heart,  as  she  remembered  his  faint 
accents  when  he  returned,  and  when,  sinking  down  before  her 
in  the  road,  he  lay  unconscious — until  they  reached  the  dwel 
ling  of  the  methodist  —  a  noble  specimen  of  manly  grace  and 
beauty.  Not  a  single  feature  that  her  eye  scanned  at  that 
moment,  but  rose  to  her  memory  with  the  distinctness  of  life ; 
and,  with  a  sentiment  of  fluttering  pleasure  at  her  heart, 
strangely  mingled  up  with  that  sadness  which  is  ever  the  com 
panion  of  devoted  love,  she  continued  to  muse  upon  the  events 
connected  with  his  presence,  until  thought  subsided  into  sleep, 
and  her  dreams  renewed,  under  various  aspects  of  pain  and 
pleasure,  the  images  and  events  which  she  had  been  last  re 
viewing. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

AN    INTERESTING    QUEST A    LONG    LETTER OUR    HERO 

WARMS    TO    NEW    ADVENTURES. 

"More  particulars  must  justify  my  knowledge." — Cymbeline. 

VIRGINIA  rose  the  next  morning  with  better  spirits.  Her 
"  bosom's  lord"  sat  somewhat  lightlier  upon  its  throne.  Sleep 
had  refreshed  and  strengthened  her,  and  those  dreams,  those 
sweet,  vague,  twilight  fancies  that  came  so  commended  to  her 
heart  by  their  association  with  its  own,  as  yet  unexpressed  de 
sires,  had  given  a  warmer  glow  to  her  cheek  than  it  wore  on 
the  preceding  evening.  How  soon  youth  relieves  itself  from 
the  pressure  and  weight  of  most  afflictions  —  with  what  elas 
ticity  it  springs  from  the  earth,  and  shakes  off  the  dew  and  the 
despondency,  and  laughs  aloud  in  the  consciousness  of  a  new 
birth,  as  it  prepares,  like  the  swif  arising  sun,  to  set  forth  on 
the  glorious  race  of  life.  Sorrow  to  the  young  is  only  one  of 
those  shadows  that  momentarily  cloud  the  skies.  Wait  but  the 
morrow  —  nay,  wait  but  a  single  hour  —  and  the  cloud  has 
passed  away,  the  sun  resumes  his  empire  of  light  and  laughter 
an<J  universal  ^tom'si'io;*.  :  the  star*  «}»:?;  out.  a  fresher  sou**  «>f 


AN   INTERESTING    GUEST.  27? 

rejoicing  at  tlie  coining  of  the  moon-browed  night;  and  i!;« 
recollection  of  storm  passes  away  from  the  reviving  spirit  with 
the  succeeding  glories  of  every  changing  moment.  True  though 
it  be,  that  memory  may  preserve  the  pain  —  nay,  the  pain  it 
self  may  still  lurk  within  the  heart  —  and  yet,  it  is  as  a  memory 
only — there  is  no  venom  in  the  wound.  The  pure  of  heart 
sooner  than  any  other,  relieve  themselves  from  the  heavier  pres 
sure  of  their  burdens.  Like  Christian  in  Bunyan,  every  additional 
step,  advancing  up  the  hills  of  virtue,  diminishes  the  weight  of 
that  bundle  which  the  best  of  us  are  still  compelled  to  carry. 

The  cheerfulness  of  the  maiden  was  increased  as  she  found 
an  improvement  in  her  father's  mood  and  bearing.  He  had 
resumed  the  old  smiles  which  he  was  accustomed  to  wear  in 
those  more  palmy  days  of  the  heart  to  all  parties,  when  fortune 
smiled 'upon  his  household,  and  indiscretion  had  not  as  yet  pre 
pared  the  way  for  guilt.  The  gloomy  humors,  which  had  made 
contact  with  him  for  the  last  few  weeks  unpleasant,  even  to  a 
daughter  so  dutiful  as  Virginia,  were  seemingly  all  dissipated  ; 
and  before  breakfast  was  well  over,  the  redumption  of  old  as 
pects  in  the  little  family,  gradually  had  the  effect  of  softening 
what  was  strange,  and  providing  what  was  deficient,  in  their 
place  of  forest  retreat. 

The  cares  of  the  new  household  —  the  work  of  order  —  occu 
pied  the  morning,  and  employment  is  a  choice  morality,  as  it 
promotes  content.  The  furniture  was  to  be  arranged  ;  the  pic 
tures  to  be  hung;  the  curtains  raised;  the  carpets  laid,  and  a 
thousand  little  matters  to  be  attended  to,  which  employed  all 
parties,  and  prevented  that  brooding  gnawing  thought,  which  is 
quite  as  frequently  the  growth  of  the  body's  idleness  as  of  the 
mind's  activity.  Then,  there  was  the  little  garden  to  be  looked 
at,  and  plans  were  to  be  hit  upon  for  disposing  of  its  solid 
squares,  and  cutting  into  angles,  crescents,  stars  and  circles,  i!& 
dead  and  uniform  levels.  To  survey  the  little  farm  in  its  whole 
extent,  was  the  business  of  an  hour,  and  dinner-time  approached 
with  a  rapidity  which  was  unaccountable  to  all.  After  dinner 
the  carriage  was  prepared  for  a  drive  about  the  environs  of 
Lucchesa;  and  in  a  better  mood  for  appreciating  the  beauty  of 
rural  objects  than  she  had  been  for  weeks  before,  Virginia  took 
her  seat  in  the  airy  vehicle,  from  which  the  travelling  top  had 


278  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

IKM-U  removed,  and  prepared,  with  the  more  easily  delighted 
Louisa,  to  see  all  the  charms  of  scenery  of  which  her  father's 
taste  anid  previous  knowledge  of  the  region,  made  him  a  very 
able  cicerone. 

We  have  already  afforded  to  the  reader  a  brief  and  passing 
glimpse  of  Lucchesa,  on  the  approach  of  Vernon  to  that  lovely 
village.  It  will  not  surely  be  supposed  necessary  that  we 
should  endeavor  to  dilate  upon  this  portion  of  our  labors  ;  since, 
with  a  few  small  and  partial  exceptions,  most  country-villages 
linve  the  same  general  outlines.  Yet,  as  we  have  sakl  before, 
Lucchesa  was  a  village  among  a  thousand,  and  st<.od  almost 
alone  in  many  respects  among  most  of  the  little  villages  of 
Mississippi. 

The  general  aspects  of  a  social  settlement  in  countries  purely 
agricultural,  are  seldom  very  pleasing.  The  proprietors  of  the 
land  are  better  pleased  to  centre  around  themselves,  on  their 
own  plantations,  their  resources  and  attractions.  These  persons 
seldom  dwell  in  communities,  and  villages  are,  accordingly, 
with  few  exceptions,  given  up  to  such  only  as  ply  the  arts  of 
trade,  and  subserve,  in  some  central  spot,  the  wants  and  wishes 
of  a  populous  surrounding  country.  As  this  surrounding  country 
is  thickly  or  sparsely  settled  —  as  it  is  rich  or  poor  —  will  be  the 
moral  and  social  characteristics  of  the  village  which  looks  to  it 
for  support.  The  occupants  are  usually  such  as  need  has 
driven.  They  are  not  often  natives  of  the  neighborhood  for 
which  they  toil ;  and  until  very  lately,  but  few  tradesmen  were 
known  in  the  southern  country,  who  did  not  "  hail  from"  New 
England  or  New  York.  The  exceptions  to  this  general  rule 
were,  perhaps,  the  blacksmith  or  the  wheelwright.  The  Yankee 
adventurer  is  seldom  a  laborer.  He  is  a  trader,  a  tavernkeeper, 
a  tailor,  a  pedler  —  he  will  do  anything  that  will  enable  him  to 
avoid  those  heavier  toils  that  call  for  great  muscular  activity 
and  power.  He  is  a  jobber,  a  contriver,  a  calculator,  an  inven 
tor —  one  of  that  cunning  class,  which,  like  the  fox,  takes  good 
care  always  to  employ  another's  fingers  to  draw  his  nuts  out 
of  the  five. 

It  demanded  brief  time  for  our  party  .to  see  the  whole  extent 
of  the  little  settlement;  and  this  done,  as  the  afternoon  was 
only  half  spent,  the  ride  was  prolonged  by  a  short  ramble  in 


AN    INTERESTING    CUKST,  270 

the  neighboring-  country.  They  had  but  ;i  little  while  returm-.*] 
from  this  ride  before  they  were  apprized  by  a  talkative  African, 
who  was  employed  as  a  sort  of  gardener,  of  the  events  which 
had  taken  place  at  the  tavern  — the  arrest  of  Vernon  —  his  sup 
posed  attempt  to  escape,  and  the  injuries  which  he  receive*1 
from  the  officers  in  consequence. 

The  tale  did  not  lose  in  the  usual  exaggerations,  nor  was  it 
quite    so    briefly  narrated   as  it  appears   in    this  passage.     It 
might  be  easy  for  us  to  let  Cudjo  speak  for  himself,  as  ?t  is  so 
favorite  a  custom   with  so  many  of  our  authors  to  make  the 
negro  a  conspicuous  actor  in  their  scenes;  and  we  see  no  good 
reason   why  a    negro   who   speaks  better  English,  and    wears 
breeches,  should  not  be  quite  as  decent  a  personage  in  a  mod. 
ern  novel,   as  a  naked   Highlander.      Besides,   Cudjo  was  an 
actor,  and  his  animated  gestures  and  fitting  action  might  be  a 
very  good  lesson  to  many  of  more  pretension  and  a  less  impo 
sing  color,  who  have  greater  rights,  and  make  more  use  of  them 
to  the  great  annoyance  of  deliberative  assemblies.     He  com 
menced  his   story  with   a   serious  bluster;   something  like  the 
manner  of  a  northwester  in  its  first  approaches.     The  restraints, 
self-imposed  upon  his  manner  at  first,  were  only  intended  to 
heighten  the  Kean-like  outbreaks  toward  the  close.     He  was, 
according  to    the    prevailing    rules    among    the    stage-stricken 
heroes,   simply   reserving   his    powers   for  the   fifth    act  — and 
when  he  reached  the  part  where  he  proceeded  to  show  the  con 
flict  between  Vernon  and  the  officers  — when  he  described  their 
joint  rush  upon  him,  and  the  descending  blow  of  the   Iris].- 
man's  shillelah  — he  did  it  with  such  terrific  truth,  that  Vir 
ginia  screamed  aloud,  and  Mr.  Wilson,  grasping  the  arm  of  the 
negro,  demanded  to  know  if  the  y-outh  was  killed. 
^  But  to  this  question  he  could  obtain  no  satisfactory  answer. 
Ottdjo  knew,  indeed,  well  enough,  but  like  a  prudent  narrator, 
he  drew  the  curtain  over  the  scene  at  that  point  when  the  doubt 
was  most  oppressive.     He  knew  no  more —  he  would  tell  no 
more  — but  confined  himself,  when  more  particularly  examined, 
to  simple  reiterations  of  the  part  into  which  he  had  studiously 
thrown  his  greatest  powers;   and  the  renewal  of  which  no  per 
suasion  could  move  him  to  forego.    He  knew  his -strong  ground, 
ana  was  resolved  to  make  the  most  of  it;  the  more  particularly 


280 


UOUDKit 


when  lie  found  that  he  l.atl  acquired,  as  well  from  the  burden 
of  his  story  as  from  his  manner  of  telling  it,  a  fearful  interest 
in  the  eyes  of  his  young  mistress. 

The  agitation  and  alarm  of  Virginia  Wilson  were  great,  but 
natural  enough  ;  and  while  her  father  stood  looking  with  equal 
surprise  and  indecision  upon  the  reiterated  gestures  of  the 
slave,  which  were  made  to  supply  those  breaks  in  his  story 
where  his  language  was  imperfect  or  incomprehensible,  she 
clasped  her  father's  arm,  motioned  his  dismissal  of  the  negro, 
and  proceeded,  though  trembling  witli  emotions  of  no  ordinary 
character,  to  remind  him  of  the  duties  which  lay  before  him. 

"  You  must  seek  this  gentleman,  my  father.  He  has  saved 
us  in  a  moment  of  great  danger,  at  the  peril  of  his  own  life. 
You  can  only  atone  for  the  seeming  indifference  with  which 
you  left  him,  sick  and  wounded,  at  Mr.  Badger's,  by  attending 
to  him  now." 

"  How  attending  to  him,  Virginia  ?     I  am  no  doctor." 

"Oh,  sir!  — Oh,  my  father!" 

"Yes — I  don't  see,  Virginia,  what  we  are  to  do." 

"Oh,  sir,  but  you  can  not  help  seeing.  He  is  at  this  tavern 
—  you  know  not  in  what  condition.  If  he  be  seriously  hurt, 
you  must  provide  the  physician,  and  bring  him  to  your 
house." 

"  What !  here,  my  child  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  here.  What  can  the  sick  man  expect  of  comfort 
in  a  public  tavern  —  in  one  where  he  can  have  no  attendance?" 

"And  what  attendance  can  he  have  here,  Virginia,  more  than 
from  a  physician  ?" 

"Your  attendance  —  mine  —  Louisa's  —  the  attendance  of  a 
private  family  having  more  comforts  at  command,  and  acknowl 
edging  a  debt  of  gratitude  to  this  youth,  whose  weakness,  and 
sickness,  and  injuries  may  all  arise  from  the  very  part  which  he 
took  in  our  rescue.  He  is  charged  with  murder  •  and  what  mur 
der  can  it  be  but  that  of  the  man  whom  he  killed  in  preserving 
us?  It  is  your  duty  to  preserve,  and  to  succor,  and  to  defend 
him.  Your  evidence,  alone,  may  save  him  from  the  punishment 
of  that  deed,  for  the  justification  of  which  no  one  can  offer  bet 
ter  proof  than  yourself.  Go  to  him,  my  father,  bring  him  to 
your  own  house,  and  see  to  his  injuries.  Our  utmost  paina 


AN    INTERESTING   GUEST.  281 

will  scarcely  acquit  us  of  llic  deep  debt  of  gratitude  we  o\\  o>  him 
and  for  which  we  could  not  even  before  bestow  our  thanks." 

We  have  seen  the  result  of  this  interview  between  the  reluc 
tant  father,  and  the  resolute  and  well-minded  daughter.  She 
gained  her  object,  though  not  without  finding  considerable 
difficulty  in  the  coldness  and  the  fears  of  the  conscious  criminal. 
The  very  name  of  a  sheriff's  officer  distressed  him ;  the  idea  of 
absolute  personal  contact  with  them  filled  him  with  apprehen 
sions  ;  and,  when  Virginia  suggested  the  probable  importance 
of  his  testimony  in  the  youth's  defence,  the  image  of  the  keen- 
eyed  magistrate,  looking  into  his  own  secret  soul,  reawakened 
the  terrors  which  beset  him  on  his  flight. 

But  the  maiden's  mind  was  too  firmly  impressed  with  the 
conviction  of  what  was  due  by  her  father  for  himself  and  his 
children  to  the  daring  stranger,  and  she  was  too  happy,  even 
in.  spite  of  the  youth's  sufferings,  that  the  chance  was  afforded 
them  to  remove  the  impression  from  his  mind,  that  they  —  per 
haps,  if  the  truth  were  properly  written,  it  would  read  she — 
had  been  ungrateful,  in  so  speedily  flying  from  one  who  had 
done  them  such  good  service,  without  speaking  their  acknowl 
edgments —  nay,  without  ministering  to  those  hurts  which  he 
had  suffered  in  their  defence. 

And  yet,  when  her  father  had  departed  on  his  mission  of 
humanity,  her  heart  began  to  tremble  with  some  new  misgiv 
ings.  Had  she  not  been  too  urgent  in  this  business  —  had  she 
not  overstepped  the  nice  boundaries  of  maidenly  modesty  in 
pressing  for  the  admission  of  this  young  man  into  her  father's 
dwelling  ?  Might  not  the  tavern  be  as  good  as  any  other  place 
for  his  recovery  —  as  full  of  aids  and  comforts?  And,  again, 
what  if  he  were  not  a  gentleman  ?  A  man  might  be  brave  and 
generous  enough  to  risk  his  own  life-  for  the  succor  of  a  stran 
ger,  yet  lack  all  those  more  estimable  points  of  character,  which 
would  entitle  him  to  the  freedom  of  a  family  —  to  an  ent.  ee  into 
its  sacred  retreats  —  to  a  seat  beside  its  hearth  —  to  the  minis 
tering  cares  of  its  daughters. 

But  such  was  not  the  case  with  Vernon.  Her  convictions 
fought  earnestly  against  this  suggestion.  Her  arguments  were 
such  as,  naturally  enough,  rise  uppermost  in  the  mind  of  the 
young,  the  beautiful,  the  .-iiniable.  and  true.  He  was  himself 


i 


-<S'j  BORDER    JJKACLKs. 

young,  and  his  faro,  distinguished  by  the  clear  Rkin  and  featurea 
of  a  nice  symmetry,  wore  an  expression  too  unequivocally  noble 
and  manly,  even  while  his  eyes  were  closed  in  the  swooning 
fit  which  had  overcome  him  during  their  brief  ride  to  the  hmisp 
of  Badger,  to  suffer  her  to  suppose  him  wanting  in  those  advan 
tages  of  birth,  education,  and  a  proper  taste  and  character,  with 
which  her  hoping  fancy  had  already  endowed  him.  He,  too, 
rnnst  be  true  and  amiable;  and  with  this  satisfactory  conclusion 
to  her  thoughts  and  doubts,  it  was  still  surprising  to  herself 
why  her  heart  should  so  flutter  and  beat,  when  she  listened  to 
her  father's  narrative  after  his  return,  and  when  she  knew  that 
the  youth  was  already  an  inmate  of  the  house. 

But  the  agitation  of  her  heart  passed  away  when  she  was  in 
formed  of  his  condition  —  when  she  learned  that  his  hurt  ren 
dered  it  necessary  that  he  should  be  kept  in  a  state  of  the 
utmost  quiet,  lest  the  delirium  which  had  already  shown  itself 
partially  in  his  words  and  actions,  should  be  increased  to  an 
extent  which  might  baffle  the  powers  of  medicine.  It  was  then 
that  she  became  the  woman  —  that  she  threw  off  the  enfeebling 
apprehensions  and  fancies  of  the  girl,  and,  following  her  father 
to  the  chamber  of  the  patient,  prepared  to  assist  in  the  labors 
of  the  nurse. 

The  position  in  which  Virginia  found  herself  was  an  intoxi 
cating  one.  The  strong  man,  whose  gallantry  had  saved  her 
father  and  herself,  lay  before  her,  an  unconscious  dependent. 
To  her  feeble  strength  and  whispered  will,  he  could  oppose 
neither  strength  nor  will.  She  could  look  upon  his  pale  face, 
and  the  subdued  and  silent  features,  without  challenging  a  re 
turning  glance.  She  could  hear  the  feeble  moan  and  incoherent 
sentence  that  fell  from  his  lips,  and  without  being  startled  by  a 
single  consciousness  of  the  exquisite  delicacy  of  her  own  posi 
tion.  While  he  lay  helpless  and  delirious,  her  emotions  were 
all  of  that  serene  order  which  belong  to  the  undisturbed  per 
formance  of  a  single  duty.  There  was  nothing  to  alarm  her 
sensibilities  —  nothing  to  make  her  look  too  narrowly  into  the 
propriety  of  her  position,  or  the  seeming  tenderness  of  that  re 
gard  which,  she  persuaded  herself,  was  the  due  of  gratitude  — 
of  humanity  —  anything,  in  short,  but  the  ministrations  of  love. 

The  affections  of  women   are  usually  unselfish.     They  love 


AN    TXTERKSTIXr.    CUTEST.  288 

the  more  profoundly,  the  move  they  scrv<>.  Their  love  grows 
with  their  labors  —  with  their  toil  tor  the  beloved  —  and,  the 
idea  of  all  injustice  or  oppression  excluded,  their  passion  is  pro 
portionately  increase!1  by  their  cares.  To  be  allowed  to  serve 
is,  with  them,  to  love  the  object  of  their  devotion.  It  is  for 
man  to  show  himself  grateful  for  the  service;  this,  perhaps,  in 
the  warmth  of  their  devoted  homage,  is  the  utmost  that  they 
ask.  Yet,  even  when  this  acknowledgment  is  withheld,  the 
greater  number  of  them  will  still  continue  the  service.  The 
service  itself,  to  the  dependent  spirit,  is  a  joy;  and  they  will 
ask  little  more  than  the  vine  that  only  prays  the  privilege  to 
be  suffered  to  cling  around  the  tree.  Perhaps,  ihe  heart  of  the 
woman  who  has  once  loved,  will  only  cease  to  love  when  it  is 
denied  to  cling  and  to  entwine  itself.  Even  when  there  is  no 
returning  caress,  the  sufferance  of  love  will  still  be  a  sweet 
privilege  to  the  very  dependent  spirit.  How  many  are  there 
who  enjoy  no  more  than  this  —  how  many  more  are  there  who 
merit,  much  more  than  man,  that  unceasing  homage  which  wo 
men  are  suffered  only  to  bestow  ! 

It  might  have  been  that  Virginia  Wilson  would  have  soon 
forgotten  Vernon,  had  they  not  a  second  time  encountered. 
Love  is  not  a  thing  of  first  sight,  though  first  impressions,  con 
firmed  by  a  subsequent  favorable  knowledge  of  the  object,  will 
very  commonly  ripen  into  love.  However  favorable  had  been 
the  impressions  made  upon  Virginia  by  the  appearance  of  the 
handsome  stranger,  changing  scenes,  objects,  and  circumstances, 
must  soon  have  erased  them,  or  subdued  the  vivid  colors  in 
which  they  were  first  made.  But  the  cares  of  tendance  upon 
the  sick-bed  of  the  youth  —  the  deep  and  difficult  respiration  of 
his  breast,  laboring  under  the  fever  which  assailed  him  —  his 
languid  but  incoherent  utterance  —  the  occasional  moan  and 
whisper  which  escaped  his  lips,  and  those  broken  words  which 
had  a  meaning  she  would  have  given  worlds  to  understand  — 
these  were  all  circumstances  which,  as  they  denoted  his  depend 
ence  upon  her,  increased  her  interest  in  him ;  and  no  hours 
were  more  sweet,  during  the  time  of  his  illness,  than  those  in 
which  she  was  suffered  to  watch  beside  his  couch. 

Sut  the  crisis  was  soon  over  —  a  few  days  effected  a  favora 
ble  change  —  the  retur:  .ing  consciousness  of  the  patient,  in  free- 


284  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

ing  her  from  her  attendance-,  deprived  Lor  of  the  sweet  privi 
lege  which  his  situation  had  afforded  ;  and  the  languid  eyes  of 
Vernon  looked  round  him  vainly  and  impatiently  for  that  love 
ly  countenance  of  which  he  had  some  sweet  and  partial  glimpses 
in  the  intervals  of  his  disease. 

In  place  of  these,  he  encountered  no  forms  more  interesting 
than  those  of  Mr.  Wilson,  or  the  little  Louisa,  or  the  sturdy 
Alabamian,  or  the  more  wily  Saxon,  the  outlaw  —  both  of  these 
last  being  necessarily  admitted  to  visit  at  the  house  of  Wilson, 
us  friends  of  the  invalid. 

As  Vernon  grew  better,  his  anxieties  at  his  situation  were 
renewed.  He  felt  the  difficulties  increase  of  declaring  his  true 
character,  as  the  agent  of  justice,  to  his  hospitable  entertainer; 
and  the  annoying  character  of  this  feeling  was  not  a  little  height 
ened  as  he  looked  upon  the  bewitching  grace,  and  encountered 
the  timid  glances  of  his  lovely  daughter.  There  was  another 
circumstance  that  also  afflicted  him.  He  could  not  mistake  the 
interest  with  which  the  keen  eyes  of  Saxon  followed  the  move 
ments  of  Virginia  Wilson ;  nor  suppress  the  involuntary  pang 
with  which  he  listened  to  the  language  of  the  outlaw,  subdued, 
•jonciliatory,  yet  free  ana  graceful,  which  he  held  with  her. 
Saxon,  too,  sometimes  enjoyed  a  privilege,  which,  in  Vernon's 
eeble  state,  was  necessarily  denied  to  him.  He  could  attend 
>  er  in  those  afternoon  walks,  when  the  sun,  sinking  behind  the 
forests,  left  only  a  few  glimmering  tokens  of  his  light  to  soften 
the  scene,  and  beguile  the  musing  and  melancholy  spirit  into 
groves,  which,  shady,  sweet  and  solitary,  seemed,  more  than  all 
other  scenes  beside,  to  harmonize  kindred  spirits,  and  bring 
them  into  a  more  near  communion  with  each  other.  Vernon, 
he  knew  not  why  himself,  felt  uneasy  at  these  rambles.  Not 
that  they  were  frequent.  Had  he  been  a  just  as  well  as  a  close 
observer,  he  would  have  discovered  that,  on  those  evenings  when 
Saxon  returned  with  the  maiden  from  her  walk,  she  always  came 
back  at  a  much  earlier  hour,  and  her  reserve  was  no  less  obvious 
than  the  obtrusive  attention  of  her  companion.  Could  he  have 
been  permitted  a  glance  at  them  in  their  rambles,  he  would 
have  been  as  much  struck  with  the  cold  courtesy  of  her  tones 
in  replying  to  her  companion,  and  the  evident  unwillingness 
wlich  she  displayed  to  receive  those  thousand  little  attentions 


AN    INTERESTING    GUEST.  285 

ivhich  are  so  apt,  where  the  parties  incline  to  each  other,  to 
sweeten  the  dull  ramble,  and  shorten  the  prolonged  paths  of  the 
forest. 

But  Vemon  already  watched  all  things  with  eyes  readily 
disposed  to  see  them  through  a  false  medium,  and  a  spirit  that 
conjectured  the  worst  of  all  things  which  it  is  not  permitted  t< 
see.  His  inability  to  share  in  the  rambles  of  the  maiden  neccs 
sarily  increased  his  apprehensions  of  the  more  fortunate  persoi! 
who  happened  to  be  her  companion;  and  his  distrust  of  the 
outlaw,  which  had  been  a  sort  of  instinct,  making  him  reluctant 
to  assimilate  with  that  person  from  the  first,  was  now  height 
ened  to  a  feeling  of  positive  dislike,  as  he  contemplated  the 
superior  advantages  which  he  possessed,  and  dreaded  the 
events  which  might  spring  out  of  them. 

Assuming  that  the  attentions  of  Saxon  were  as  grateful  to 
Virginia  as  they  seemed  imposing  in  his  own  eyes,  he  suffered 
his  annoyance  to  show  itself,  sometimes,  in  a  cold  glance  and 
colder  speech  to  the  maiden  herself,  at  moments  when  the  jeal 
ous  fit  was  particularly  active  in  his  bosom;  and  it  was  only 
by  a  strong  and  resolute  exercise  of  that  manly  sense,  which 
was  the  prevailing  characteristic  of  his  mind,  that  he  could  see, 
and  seek  to  repair,  by  an  immediate  change  of  deportment,  the 
brutality  of  which  he  felt  himself  guilty.  On  such  occasions 
her  eyes  would  sink  to  the  floor  —  her  voice,  which  had  urged 
its  inquiry  in  a  tremulous  tone,  that  might  have  conveyed  a 
grateful  meaning  to  the  heart  of  any  lover,  not  blinded  and 
made  obtuse  by  other  and  perverse  feelings,  would  become 
silent ;  and  she  would  seize  an  early  opportunity  to  retire  from 
the  eyes  of  all,  and  in  the  solitude  of  her  chamber  pore  over 
those  mysterious  emotions  which  oppressed  her,  without  rem 
edy  ;  and  wonder  at  the  excitement  in  her  heart,  for  which  S!M 
felt  unable  to  account.  Why  had  the  words  of  Vernon  sn  -L 
power  over  her  ?  Why  did  she  shrink  from  his  gentler  glance; 
—  why  did  she  suffer  at  his  cold  ones?  Why  was  it  such  a 
pleasure  to  hear  that  voice,  the  sounds  of  which  yet  made  her 
tremble?  It  was  not  long  before  circumstances  provided  hei 
with  a  reply. 

Meanwhile,  Vernon  improved  hourly,  and  the  attendance  of 
the  physician  ceased  to  be  necessary.  The  hour  was  a- 


BORDER  BEAGLES. 

proaching  when  the  officers  of  the  law  would  claim  their  pris 
oner,  though  this  conviction  was  productive  of  more  disquietude 
in  his  mind  because  of  the  pleasant  communion  which  it  was 
destined  to  disturb,  than  because  of  any  danger  in  which  his 
arrest  promised  to  involve  him.  That  he  should  be  seriously 
made  to  answer  for  the  death  of  Horsey,  he  did  not  suffer  him 
self  to  tli  ink  for  an  instant;  yet,  he  did  not,  because  of  his  con 
fidence  in  himself,  neglect  those  duties,  the  performance  of 
which  arose  out  of  his  present  situation.  He  prepared  letters 
to  his  friend  and  patron,  Carter,  giving  a  succinct  detail  of  his 
wanderings  and  adventures,  up  to  the  very  moment  of  his  wri 
ting,  omitting  no  event  which  might  be  held  worthy  of  commu 
nication,  excepting  such  details  as  belonged  to  the  conferences 
which  he  had  had  with  Badger  and  Rawlinfr  ^n  the  subject  of 
the  banded  robbers  of  the  country.  On  this  head  he  deemed  it 
prudent  to  forbear  all  remark  in  a  letter  which  was  to  be  in 
trusted  to  the  ordinary  post ;  particularly,  indeed,  as  Carter 
was  not  greatly  interested  in  any  such  matters.  With  respect 
to  the  fate  of  Horsey,  he  related  all  that  had  reached  him  and 
all  that  he  knew  —  detailed  the  chief  particulars  of  their  dia 
logues  where  they  threw  any  light  upon  the  purposes  or  course 
of  that  erratic  youth,  described  the  circumstances  under  which 
they  parted,  and,  after  relating  the  affair  of  young  Mabry,  and 
the  assault  of  the  latter  upon  himself,  suggested  a  surmise  — 
which  he  would  yet  have  willingly  forborne  —  that  this  young 
man  himself  might  have  been  the  murderer ;  for  the  probabili 
ties  strongly  inclined  to  this  opinion. 

"I  know,"  he  continued  —  "I  know,  my  dear  sir,  that  you 
will  not  need  my  solemn  assurance  —  which  I  yet  make — that 
my  hands  are  utterly  guiltless  of  this  young  man's  death.  I 
trust  to  make  this  appear  in  my  examination  before  the  justice, 
and  I  am  scarcely  less  anxious  that  you  should  do  your  best  to 
convince  his  worthy  old  parents  to  the  same  effect.  Next  to 
the  pain  of  this  most  humiliating  situation  in  which  I  find  my 
self,  is  the  deep  sorrow  which  I  should  ever  feel  at  incurring, 
however  unjustly,  the  suspicions  of  the  good  people  whose 
kindness  to  me  was  not  the  less  grateful  to  my  heart,  because 
*t  was  comparatively  unimportant  to  my  interests.  I  must  pray 
V"  then  to  spare  no  effort,  by  an  array  of  all  the  favorable 


AN    INTERESTING    GUEST.  -87 

facts  which  you  possess,  and  a  careful  display  of  those  argu 
ments  which  you  understand  as  well  as  myself,  and  which  con 
clusively  establish  the  folly  and  impolicy  of  such  a  deed,  to 
acquit  me,  in  their  eyes,  of  the  cruel  imputation.  I  write,"  he 
continued,  "  from  the  house  of  William  Maitland,  himself,  with 
whose  family  I  have  been  an  inmate  for  the  last  five  days.  I 
am  in  part  indebted  to  his  hospitable  care  for  my  improved 
health  and  recovery  from  my  hurts.  As  yet  he  knows  nothing 
of  me,  of  my  connection  with  you,  or  of  my  objects.  My  de 
velopment  of  the  latter,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  effect  your  gen 
erous  intentions  toward  his  children  —  both  of  whom  are  females 
-and  to  escape  the  reproach  of  requiting  good  with  evil,  shall 
be  my  study  between  this  and  the  period,  when,  in  compliance 
with  the  demands  of  the  officers  of  justice,  I  shall  be  compelled 
to  leave  him.  My  position  is  one  of  considerable  delicacy,  and 
my  course,  therefore,  must  be  the  result  of  a  calm  and  serious 
consideration." 

Such  was  a  portion  of  the  elaborate  letter  which  Vernon. pre 
pared  for  the  perusal  of  his  guardian.  Could  it  be  imputed  as 
insincerity,  or  an  improper  suppression  of  necessary  particulars, 
that  the  writer  said  not  a  word  more  on  the  subject  of  those 
children  of  Ellen  Taylor,  in  whom  Carter  had  such  a  prevailing 
interest,  and  to  whom  he  was  disposed  to  exhibit  a  degree  of 
generosity  no  less  novel  than  extreme  ?  Vernon's  own  coiir 
science  smote  him  for  the  suppression  of  particulars  which  he 
knew  must  interest  his  patron  to  know ;  but  he  strove  in  vain 
to  overcome  a  reluctance,  the  sources  of  which  he  was  unwilling 
to  examine. 

He  was  yet  writing,  when  he  heard  the  fall  of  a  light  foot 
step  passing  through  the  gallery.  He  knew  the  step;  and  he 
hurried  to  the  window  with  a  movement,  which,  in  his  feeble 
state,  it  required  some  effort  to  make.  His  eyes  followed  the 
slowly  moving  form  —  the  form  of  perfect  symmetry  —  the 
movement  of  perfect  grace.  Her  course  lay  through  the  gar1- 
den  to  the  shrouding  woods  beyond  it.  This  was  her  accus 
tomed  walk.  He  forgot  himself  while  he  gazed  —  his  thoughts 
were  steeped  in  the  dews  of  a  most  Elysian  fancy  —  his  wor- 
aiiip  was  oblivious  of  all  other  objects  than  the  one  of  its  adora 
tion.  0~  sudden  she  looked  behind  her  —  she  looked  upward 


288  iiOJIDEit    BEAGLES. 

—  their  eyes  encountered,  and  then  she  fled  —  fled  even  as  the 
young  fawn,  that,  wandering  forth  from  the  forest  for  a  single 
instant,  and,  for  the  first  time,  in  that  single  instant,  encounter*! 
the  glance  of  the  hunter. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

LOVE-PASSAGES    UNDER    AN    EVIL    EYE ASSAULT CUSTODY  — 

A    RIDE    TO    PRISON. 

• 

"Well,  perform  it, 
The  law  is  satisfied:  they  can  but  die." 

THE  OLD  LAW 

A  NEW  spirit  rose  in  his  bosom  as  he  beheld  this  movement. 
Why  should  I  not  pursue?"  was  the  involuntary  self-inquiry 
of  his  mind.  He  grew  stronger  as  he  proposed  it.  The  stiff 
ness  of  his  wounded  limb  seemed  to  lessen,  and  grasping  the 
staff  with  which  he  had  been  wont  to  hobble  across  his  cham 
ber  in  the  last  two  days,  he  moved  forward  with  a  degree  of 
rapidity  that  was  scarcely  justified  by  prudence.  Unseen,  he 
passed  through  the  gallery,  descended  the  steps,  followed  the 
lightly-beaten  foot-path  which  he  had  seen  her  take  around  the 
garden,  and  was  soon  hidden  in  the  same  forests  which  yet  con 
cealed  her  from  his  sight.  A  new  thought  entered  his  mind  at 
this  moment.  A  keen  pang  of  jealousy  thrilled  through  his 
heart. 

"  What  if  I  intrude  upon  a  sacred  privacy  ?  Goes  she  not  to 
meet  this  smiling  fellow  —  this  Saxon  —  this  pleasing  word- 
monger  1  Walk  they  not  together  daily  1  Wherefore  should 
1  approach  them  ?" 

Had  the  question  been  answered  by  his  reason  merely,  he 
would  most  probably  have  returned  to  the  dwelling  without  far 
ther  search.  But  he  remembered  the  backward  glance  which 
she  gave  him  —  her  sudden  flight  —  and  that  memory,  which 
answered  nothing  and  told  nothing,  had  yet  a  s-ignitication  of 
more  effect  upon  his  heart  than  all  the  arguments  of  his  i&iud 


LOVE-PASSAGES    UNDER   AN    EVIL    EYE.  289 

to  his  understanding.  He  went  forward,  and  she  had  neither 
fled  so  far  nor  so  fast,  but  that  he  was  able  to  overtake  her. 
She  sat  upon  a  fallen  pine  —  one  that  the  hurricane  had  but 
lately  wrested  from  its  foundation,  the  foliage  yet  green  upon 
its  branches.  The  long  leaves  hung  around,  and  half-shrouded 
her  from  his  sight.  Him  she  saw  not,  but  remained  in  her  sit 
ting  posture,  unconscious  of  his  approach,  until  he  was  within  a 
few  paces  of  her. 

Then  she  started  to  her  feet  —  then  he  beheld  that  face  — 
those  eyes  once  more  turned  upon  him,  and  he  fancied  they  had 
been  glistening  with  tears.  But  this  might  have  been  a  fancy 
only  —  what  need  had  she  to  weep?  He  saw  no  tears,  and  dis 
missed  the  suspicion  from  his  mind ;  but  he  could  not  doubt 
that  her  cheeks  were  more  pale  than  usual,  and  the  languid 
brightness  of  her  eyes  —  their  dewy  softness  —  could  not  be 
mistaken. 

There  were  certainly  some  keen  sensibilities  at  work  within 
her  bosom.  He  was  moved  instinctively  by  this  conviction  — 
he  felt  that  there  were  some  weaknesses  in  his  own,  but  he 
strove  to  silence  and  put  down  that  ever-ready  consciousness 
which  is  so  apt,  in  every  young  man's  bosom,  to  convert  into 
his  special  divinity  the  first  passable  damsel  whom  he  sees. 
Vernon  was  a  youth  of  calm,  good  sense,  and  he  was  deter 
mined  to  keep  his  emotions  of  blood  and  fancy  from  having 
their  own  way.  He  assumed  a  lightness  and  gayety  of  tone 
when  he  addressed  her,  which  called  for  an  effort.  He  took 
her  hand,  reconducted  her  to  her  seat,  and  placed  himself  be 
side  her  while  he  spoke. 

"  Give  me  joy,  Miss  Wilson,  that  I  am  at  last  able  to  find  out 
your  favorite  walks.  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  you  from  the  win 
dow,  and  grew  strong  to  pursue,  as  I  beheld  the  ease  of  your 
flight.  I  have  long  envied  you  these  walks — let  me  make  you 
my  acknowledgments,  since  it  is,  perhaps,  owing  to  your  friendly 
cares  that  I  am  so  soon  able  to  enjoy  them." 

"Not  to  mine  —  not  to  mine,"  was  her  hasty  reply..    "I  ha\ 
done  but  little,  Mr.  Vernon ;  I  am  very  happy  that  anything 
that  we  could  do  should  have  been  agreeable  to  one  to  whom 
we  owe  so  much.     You — " 

'*  Ah!  you  would  remind  me  of  a  happy  moment — but  you 

13 


BORDER   BEAGLES. 

need  not;  I  am  too  proud  of  having  served  you,  howevei 
slightly,  to  forget  my  own  good  deeds.  I  may  not  boast  of 
there.,  but  I  need  no  help  to  persuade  me  to  remember  them  ; 
they  will  always  form  a  part  of  that  pleasant  chronicle,  Miss 
Wilson,  which  the  heart  makes  of  its  fortunate  events.  I  shall 
get  them  all  down  together  with  the  five  days  enjoyed  in  you', 
cottage." 

"Enjoyed,  Mr.  Vernon  ?"  was  the  smiling  question.  "En 
dured,  you  mean." 

"No,  enjoyed,"  was  the  answer.  "The  pain  of  the  illness  is 
soon  forgotten  in  the  cares  of  the  nurse ;  and  the  kindness 
which  has  soothed  is  always  a  pleasure  to  be  remembered,  even 
when  the  pain  is  forgotten.  Let  me  say,  then,  how  sweet  to 
me  is  the  obligation  of  gratitude  which  I  feel  to  you  and  yours, 
for  the  pleasant  cares  which  have  ministered  to  my  feebleness 
and  need." 

"  Do  not  speak  of  it,  Mr.  Vernon.  My  father  has  only  done 
his  duty.  But  for  you,  we  know  not  what  might  have  hap 
pened  to  us.  You  saved  us  at  the  hazard  of  your  life,  and  what 
we  have  done  called  for  no  hazard." 

"But  much  trouble  —  much  annoyance — " 

"No,  no!  Mr.  Vernon  —  it  was  a  pleasure,  sir  —  to — " 

She  paused  —  the  jealousy  of  a  nice  maiden  delicacy  became 
apprehensive  that  her  gratitude  might  express  itself  too  warmly. 
Gratitude  she  knew  was  justified,  but  that  had  its  own  lan 
guage,  and  the  caution  was  only  a  proper  one,  lest  she  might 
employ  for  its  expression  the  language  of  a  warmer  sentiment. 
Perhaps  Vernon  detected  something  of  this  consciousness,  for 
he  put  his  hand  upon  hers  with  a  gentle  effort  to  detain  it  in 
his  grasp,  as  he  said,  hurriedly : — 

"  Speak,  Miss  Wilson — go  on." 

She  withdrew  her  hand  —  the  flush  was  renewed  upon  her 
face,  but  she  said  nothing.  A  moment  followed  of  awkward 
silence  to  them  both,  which  was  only  broken  by  a  strong  and 
decided  effort  on  the  part  of  Vernon.  His  lively  manner  had 
utterly  departed  in  the  first  few  moments  of  their  interview,  and 
it  was  with  a  gravity,  natural  on  many  accounts  to  his  situa 
tion,  that  he  renewed  the  conversation.  .. 

'Next,"  he  said,  "to  my  acknowledgments  for  your  hospital 


LOVE- PASSAGES    b'XDEU    AX    EVIL    EYE.  2'J1 

ity  and  kindness,  Miss  Wilson,  is  the  desire  which  I  feel  to 
place  myself  in  a  right  point  of  view  before  you.  I  would  seek 
to  assure  and  convince  you  that  your  kindness  has  not  been  be 
stowed  upon  a  criminal,  though  I  have  no  proof  beyond  my  own 
asseveration,  by  which  to  convince  you  that  I  am  utterly  guilt 
less  of  this  murder  which  is  laid  to  my  charge." 

"Oh,  think  not,  Mr.  Vernon,  that  we  believe — that  we  can 
believe  this  foolish  charge  —  I  am  sure  — I  know  that  it  is 
groundless." 

"  On  my  honor,  you  do  me  only  justice.  The  shedding  of 
blood  —  the  taking  of  life  —is  an  offence  against  humanity  from 
which  my  soul  would  shrink,  unless  in  a  case  of  absolute  neces 
sity.  The  only  deed  of  the  kind  of  which  I  have  ever  been 
guilty  is  one  that  took  place  almost  in  your  sight,  and  was 
strictly  justifiable  from  the  ckcumstances  preceding  it." 

«  Yes  —  yes  !"  faltered  the  maiden,  with  a  shudder. 

"The  young  man  for  whose  death  I  have  been  summoned  to 
answer,  was  one  of  whom  I  knew  but  little  —  nothing  unfavora 
ble —  but  on  the  contrary,  much  which  commanded  my  indul 
gence  and  regard.  I  had  neither  quarrel  to  maintain  against 
him,  nor  interest  to  pursue ;  and  my  own  objects,  Miss  Wilson, 
were  of  a  nature  which  made  me  particularly  desirous  to  avoid 
all  strife  and  difficulty  with  any  and  everybody.  That  I  have 
not  been  able  to  avoid  them,  is  due  rather  to  my  evil  fortune 
than  my  desire.  I  know  nothing  of  the  grounds  upon  whicl 
this  charge  has  been  made  against  me,  or  of  the  parties  making 
it,  but  I  trust  soon,  Miss  Wilson,  to  satisfy  the  judge  of  that  in 
nocence  which  you  have  so  kindly  declared  yourself  willing  to 
believe." 

"  Oh,  sir,  we  know  —  we  hope  it  will  be  so.  I  am  sure  there 
can  be  no  doubt  of  it.  My  father  says  he  is  certain  you  will 
be  released,  and  Mr.  Jamison  told  me  but  yesterday  that  you  no 
more  committed  the  crime  than  he  did,  and  he  will  soon  enough 
convince  the  justice  to  that  effect.  He  is  very  friendly  to  you, 
sir,  that  Mr.  Jamison." 

"A  good  fellow  —  a  strange  fellow  —  whom  I  never  saw  be 
fore  the  evening  of  my  arrival  at  Lucchesa;  but,  like  the  frank 
men  of  our  western  forests  generally,  he  carries  his  heart  in  one 
hand  and  his  weapon  in  the  other,  always  and  equally  readv 


292  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

whether  for  friend  or  foe.  I  hope  he  may  not  be  too  sanguim 
in  this  matter  —  I  rely  rather  on  my  own  consciousness  of  inno 
cence  than  upon  any  knowledge  of  the  facts  with  which  I  am 
acquainted.  I  know  nothing  of  the  circumstances  upon  which 
the  accusation  is  based." 

"  Nor  does  he,  I  imagine ;  at  least,  he  could  tell  father  noth 
ing,  who  was  very  anxious  to  know.  His  convictions  in  yom 
favor  seemed  to  arise  from  his  prepossessions ;  you  are  fortu 
nate,  Mr.  Vernon,  in  finding  friends  so  readily  —  perhaps  that 
fact  alone  may  be  considered  a  presumption  in  your  defence." 

"  I  am  afraid  it  would  go  but  a  little  way  toward  my  acquit 
tal  ;  but  then  it  can  be  nothing  but  a  presumption  against  me, 
and  a  presumption,  unsupported  by  strong  circumstances,  can  do 
me  little  harm.  And  yet,  Miss  Wilson,  there  is  something  in 
your  opinion  which  carries  to  my  mind  a  hope  scarce  less  grate 
ful  than  would  be  the  assurance  of  my  easy  escape  from  this 
cruel  imputation." 

"  What  is  that,  sir  ?"  she  asked,  innocently.  The  question 
would  have  been  left  unspoken  had  she  looked  up  in  his  face 
when  she  replied,  and  beheld  the  increasing  brightness  and 
piercing  regard  embodied  in  his  glance. 

"That  you  found  nothing  strange  or  wonderful  —  nothing 
unnatural  or  unexpected  —  in  the  supposed  facility  with  which 
I  have  secured  the  favoring  prepossessions  of  others.  May  I 
hope  that  he  who  has  won  the  friendship  of  the  rude  country 
man,  will  not  be  thought  too  presuming  if  he  fancies  that  he  has 
also  not  vainly  striven  for  that  of  the  city  maiden?  Your 
friendship,  Miss  Wilson,  would  be  that  of  beauty,  and  youth, 
and  education  —  taste  without  artifice  —  opinion  without  rude 
ness,  and  intellectual  strength  mingled  with  grace  and  senti 
ment.  May  I  hope  for  these  —  may  I  dream,  in  the  vanity  of  \ 
too  sanguine  spirit,  that  in  finding  these  qualities  in  you,  and 
estimating  them  at  their  true  value  when  found,  I  have  not 
prayed  in  vain  for  the  acquisition  of  your  regards.  Your  friend 
ship — " 

He  paused  —  the  sentence  remained  unfinished,  though  its 
purport  was  no  less  clear  to  her  mind  than  it  was  in  the  mind 
v  f  him  who  yet  withheld  its  utterance.  It  may  be  added,  that 
*Ue  felt,  how  much  more  grateful  it  was,  left  i'.n>ni>keh.  than  jf 


LOVE-PASSAGES    UNDER    AN    EVIL    EYE.  293 

it  had  been  concluded.  Vernon  himself  felt  that  it  could  not  be 
concluded  as  it  then  stood.  It  was  too  cold  a  projected  termi- 
yation  to  matter  that  was  naturally  rising  into  warmth,  and  a 
manner  already  warm  and  beginning  to  be  impassioned.  He 
wisely  stopped  short  —  short  where  he  was —  and  she  breathed 
less  freely  under  the  pressure  of  a  sentiment  which  was  strangely 
sweet,  though  almost  suffocating. 

And  he  — the  glow  upon  his  cheek  made  itself  felt  —  the 
tremors  at  his  heart  grew  almost  to  a  murmur  like  the  swift 
dropping  of  distant  falling  rain.  Was  it,  indeed,  friendship  that 
he  solicited  from  the  favoring  estimate  of  Virginia  Wilson? 
At  that  moment  neither  of  them  thought  of  friendship,  —  they 
thought  of  anything  besides.  The  sympathy  was  of  a  stronger- 
sort  which  was  stirring  in  the  bosom  of  the  two,  and  it  found  its 
proper  utterance  at  last. 

But  let  us  abridge  the  scene.  Love  passages  are  rarely  of 
interest  to  third  parties ;  and  either  glide  into  the  bright  fan- 
tastics,  such  as  glow  in  the  ethereal  world  and  season  of  a 
Romeo,  or  become,  in  the  measured  economy  of  the  modern 
calculator,  a  question  of  portion,  pin-money  and  proper  establish 
ment.  In  either  case,  the  reader  or  speculator  yawns  in  weari 
ness  or  disgust,  and  is  satisfied  with  those  results  which  tend  to 
a  final  dismissal  of  all  the  parties.  We  might  hope  —  we  cer 
tainly  should  pray  —  for  a  better  interest  with  these.  Vernon 
was  no  lovesick  fantastic,  though  warmed  by  a  temperament 
never  subdued,  not  always  measured,  and  sometimes  endowed 
with  no  limited  tongue  for  utterance ;  but  his  passions  were  per 
haps  more  governable  than  those  of  most  young  men,  and  he 
had  gone  through  a  long  course  of  severe  self-study,  by  which 
they  had  not  only  been  regulated  to  a  certain  movement,  but 
his  reason  had  also  been  advanced  to  a  certain  supremacy. 
This  self-acquired  power  kept  his  utterance  within  the  bounds 
of  good  taste  and  propriety  —  his  love  was  that  of  the  man  and 
the  gentleman  —  his  passions  were  those  of  civilization.  lie 
had  learned  to  know  that  blood  frequently  presumes  in  the  lan 
guage  of  affection,  and  becomes  obtrusive  because  of  a  selfish 
ness  which  it  disguises  by  another  name,  —  he  also  knew  thai 
the  first  lesson  which  true  love  has  ever  taught,  is  one  of  hu 
mility —  but  that  humility  which  is  always  allied  to  hope. 


•2(J4  HORDER    BEAGLES. 

Love  is  the  ivli^ioii  <>f  the  passions,  nrd  its  zeal,  tliougL 
warm  and  fiery,  is  still  that  of  one  officiating  at  high  altars, 
where  the  first  sign  of  the  advent  of  the  God  is  shown  by  the 
submission  of  the  worshipper.  By  gradual  transitions — by  the 
one  mystic  key-note  — the  look,  the  word,  which,  here  and 
there,  suggests  the  stages  by  which  two  hearts,  having  the  same 
journey  to  take,  are  gradually  brought  together  —  an  interest 
grew  up  in  the  breast  of  each,  leading  to  a  just  comprehension 
of  the  other;  and  ere  the  one  spoke,  the  other  felt.  Vernon 
to  his  own  surprise,  discovered  that  he  had  won  a  heart  long 
before  he  ever  dreamed  of  looking  for  one  ;  and  Virginia  Wil 
son —  certainly,  until  she  met  with  our  hero,  she  had  never 
thought  it  worth  while  to  take  any  care  of  that,  which  she 
now  discovered  it  to  be  so  seriously  sweet  a  business  to  sur 
render. 

Though  we  have  denied  ourselves  the  pleasure  of  beholding 
the  love  scene  and  hearkening  to  the  love  dialogue  between  the 
parties,   there  was  another   who,  "  squat  like  a  toad"  in   the 
cover  of  the  neighboring  foliage,  had  no  such  scruples  as  re 
strain  us.     He  heard  and  witnessed  all.     This  was  the  outlaw 
Saxon.     He  had  followed  their  footsteps,  and  had  penetrated  to 
a  spot,  which  would  enable  him  to  arrive  at  a  knowledge  as  vex 
ing  to  his  spirit  as  was  the  manner  degrading  by  which  it  was 
obtained.     He  heard,  with  ill-suppressed  fury,  the  whispered 
word,  half  doubt,  half  tenderness  —  he  saw  the  smile  which 
trembled  in  the  eye  it  lightened  — the  gentle  meeting  of  those 
mingling  hands,  which,  under  Love's  slightest  pressure,  become 
instincts  themselves  and  of  the  most  sensitive  character  ;  -*-  and 
no  less  new  than  bitter  was  the  pang  that  went  through  his  own 
breast,  as  he  beheld  the  happiness  he  envied.     He  had  only  of 
late  grown  conscious  of  a  passion  such  as  he  had  never  felt  be 
fore.     He  had  sought  Virginia  Wilson  daily  from  the  first  hour 
that  her  presence   had   shone  upon  his  sight;  and  under  the 
pretence  of  an  interest  in  his  wounded  fellow-traveller,  he  had 
obtained  access  to  her  dwelling  with  the  purpose  of  pressing 
those  attentions  by  which  he  hoped  to  secure  an  interest  in  her 
yieart.      He  had    joined    her    in   her   daily    walks  — was    not 
'vithout  that   easy   dialogue    and   graceful  manner   which    are 
*f   all    things    most    essential    to    success    with    woman;    and 


LOVE-PASSAGES    UNDER    AN    EVIL    EYE.  295 

had  striven  with  his  best  powers  to  commend  himself  to"  hei 
regards. 

Yet  she  had  shrunk  from  his  pursuit ;  had  discouraged  the 
intimacy  at  which  he  aimed  —  had  responded  coldly  to  his  con 
versation,  and  shown  herself  more  than  commonly  obtuse  when 
ever  he  had  striven  to  be  more  than  commonly  intelligible. 
Yet,  here  was  one,  who,  almost  without  his  own  consciousness 
-certainly,  without  design  —  had  succeeded  in  that  which  had 
'.asked  his  utmost  ability,  even  under  the  guidance  of  a  settled 
purpose  and  a  deliberate  scheme.  The  mortification  of  his 
pride  increased  the  pang  of  hip  disappointment,  and  the  vindic- 
vc  purpose,  with  which  he  had  before  regarded  Vernon,  now 
assumed  a  deeper  character  in  his  mind. 

"  It  is  well,"  was  his  thought,  as  he  surveyed  the  pair  —  "  but 
the  hour  of  vengeance  is  at  hand.  You  would  bind  the  outlaw, 
Harry  Vernon  !  We  shall  see.  Artful,  and  strong,  and  saga 
cious,  as  you  think  yourself,  you  are  in  the  toils.  Deceived  by 
one  traitor,  Clement  Foster  will  scarcely  suffer  himself,  hand 
and  foot,  to  be  manacled  by  another.  Pliant  once,  he  is  now 
unyielding;  and  by  all  that  is  sacred  in  the  love  of  the  saint 
and  the  fear  of  the  sinner,  you:  shall  pay  the  penalty  of  your 
presumption  by  your  life.  You  would  hunt  the  bear  in  his  native 
brake,  beware  of  his  embrace." 

He  left  the  place  of  his  concealment  with  a  stealthy  step, 
and  without  disturbing  the  lovers,  who  were  now  but  too  much 
absorbed  with  one  another  to  have  senses  for  the  rustling 
branches,  or  the  slight  motion  of  a  gliding  form  among  the 
leaves.  He  proceeded  to  the  tavern  with  all  the  impatience  of 
hate,  and  summoned  his  confederates  who  played  the  part  of 
the  officers  of  justice.  To  them  he  issued  his  commands,  and 
described  the  place  in  which  the  lovers  were  still  to  be  found. 

"  Seek  him  there,"  said  the  vindictive  outlaw  ;  "  and  seize  on 
him  at  once.  Give  him  no  indulgence  —  drag  him  away,  though 
you  find  him  in  her  arms.  Hear  none  of  his  promises  —  hearken 
to  none  of  her  entreaties.  The  scoundrel  is  a  spy  upon  us  — 
another  Huidis;  and  he  deserves  no  mercy  at  our  hands. 
Away  !  you  know  the  place." 

He  saw  them  depart  in  the  same  instant,  and  waited  with 
malicious  impatience,  the  result  of  liis  furious  mandate.  Th« 


296  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

lovors  meanwhile  had  prepared  to  return  to  t!i<?  cottage. 
were  alrofldy  on  their  way  —  the  hand  of  the  maiden  in  that  of 
Vernon's ;  her  eyes  cast  upon  the  ground  as  she  listened  to 
those  accents  so  dear  to  the  young  heart — those  idle  woids  and 
whispers,  which,  though  they  sound  sillily  enough  in  the  ears  of 
third  persons,  seem  to  the  initiate  more  precious  than  manna  in 
the  wilderness.  At  this  moment  they  were  encountered  by  the 
ruffians  who  stood  suddenly  in  the  path  before  them.  Virginia 
shrunk  back  in  alarm,  while  a  faint  scream  issued  from  her 
lips. 

"  How  now,  fellows  !  What  mean  you  ?"  demanded  Vernon, 
who  did  not  at  first  recognise  them. 

"Fellows!  indeed!"  said  one.  "We'll  see  who's  the  better 
fellow  when  Judge  Nawls  sets  eyes  upon  us.  That's  for  being 
civil  to  you,  I  suppose,  and  letting  you  off  when  we  had  you 
But  there's  an  end  to  that.  You  must  go  along  with  us." 

"  Along  with  you  !     Who  are  you  ?" 

"Oh,  you've  no  memory  of  us!  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if 
you've  forgotten  yourself  too.  You're  not  Mr.  Harry  Vernon, 
that  killed  one  Thomas  Horsey,  and  we  ain't  the  men  that 
'Squire  Nawls  sent  to  catch  you  !  Come,  come,  young  'un, 
that's  not  doing  the  thing  handsomely  —  that's  not  keeping  to 
your  promise.  You  must  go  along  with  us  at  once,  so  drop  the 
young  lady's  arm,  and  here's  our'n.  It  ain't  quite  so  soft  a  one, 
it's  true,  but,  by  the  hokey,  it's  better  able  to  help  you;  and 
then  you  know,  need  must  when  the  devil  drives  —  so  no  grum 
bling." 

The  action  of  the  ruffian  corresponded  with  his  words.  His 
hand  was  already  extended  toward  the  collar  of  Vernon's  coat, 
when,  stepping  back  a  pace,  the  indignant  youth  lifted  his  staff 
with  a  promptness  and  determination  which  drove  the  fellow 
back  much  faster  than  he  had  advanced.  Tn  another  instant, 
however,  a  calmer  mood  filled  the  mind  of  Vernon. 

"This  is  all  idle.  .1  certainly  do  not  mean  to  resist  these 
men  —  I  have  no  reason  to  fear  the  magistrate."  Such  were 
his  thoughts  as  he  turned  to  Virginia. 

"Miss  Wilson,  forgive  me.  I  am  giving  a  needless  alarm. 
These  are  the  officers  of  justice,  and  seeing  me  well  enough  to 
travel,  they  naturally  enough  seek  lo  perform  their  duty  Will 


ASSAULT —  CUSTODY— -A   RIDE   TO    PRISON.  20? 

you  proceed  to  the  house?  —  I  will  follow  you.  I  would  speak 
with  them  a  while." 

He  led  her  forward  until  they  had  passed  the  officers,  then 
left  her  to  proceed  alone  while  he  returned  to  them. 

"Gentlemen,  I  will  be  ready  to  go  with  you  in  an  hour; —  1 
will  but  return  to  the  dwelling  of  Mr.  Wilson,  and  at  the  end 
of  that  time  I  will  meet  you  at  the  tavern." 

"  'Twon't  do,  my  boy,"  was  the  answer,  "  you're  too  ready 
with  your  stick  to  be  trusted.  You  must  go  with  us  now.  We 
can't  trust  you  out  of  our  sight." 

The  youth  would  have  expostulated,  but  while  he  spoke, 
one  of  the  ruffians  threw  himself  upon  him,  bore  him  to  the 
earth,  and,  in  spite  of  all  his  assurances  that  he  would  quietly 
accompany  them,  proceeded  to  bind  his  arms  with  a  cord  which 
the  providence  of  Saxon  had  procured  for  the  purpose,  and 
which  the  assistance  of  his  companion  enabled  him  to  use  in 
spite  of  the  angry  but  feeble  resistance  of  the  prisoner.  When 
bound,  they  lifted  him  to  his  feet,  and  placing  themselves,  one 
on  each  hand,  commanded  him  to  move  forward  in  the  direction 
of  the  tavern. 

He  did  so  with  as  much  quietness  of  temper  as  he  could  com 
mand  under  the  reasonable  anger  which  naturally  followed  the 
provocation.  He  tried  to  convince  himself  that  they  were  do 
ing  nothing  more  than  their  duty  —  that  they  had  yielded  him 
all  reasonable  indulgence  —  and  were  bound,  as  soon  as  they 
discovered  his  ability  to  travel,  to  secure  his  person  against  the 
chances  of  escape.  But  the  sedative  effect  of  his  own  reason 
ings  was  very  partial.  He  still  could  not  resist  the  wish  that 
his  arms  were  once  more  free,  and  his  staff  once  more  in  his 
.hands.  "  My  staff  should  make  ye  skip,"  thought  he,  in  the 
language  of  the  "Ancient  Mariner."  But  he  overcame  a  de 
sire  which  he  felt  to  be  no  less  idle  than  hopeless,  and  tried  to 
obtain  his  remedy  in  another  way. 

"A  civil  answer  turneth  away  wrath,"  and  he  had  long 
known  that  a  civil  tongue  will  carry  a  man  unscotched  through 
the  whole  western  country.  Assuming  the  men  beside  him  to 
be  no  other  than  what  they  professed  to  be,  he  determined  to 
*eason  with  them  as  persons  who  could  have  no  motive  for  re» 


29S  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

fusing  any  ii  diilgpii'cr  to  ;i  prisoner  \\  hidi  was  not  inconsisteni 
with  the  security  of  their  trust. 

"  You  are  unnecessarily  hard  with  me,  men,'*  lie  said,  quietly. 
"  lou  can  have  no  reason  for  thinking  I  would  run  away,  since, 
if  such  had  been  my  desire,  I  could  have  been  off  at  daylight, 
and  none  had  been  the  wiser.  Why  then  would  you  make  an 
enemy  of  a  man  who  can  be  your  friend  —  who  is  willing  to  re 
ward  you  ?  Suffer  me  to  go  back  to  the  dwelling  of  Mr.  Wil 
son  for  an  hour  only.  You,  in  the  meantime,  can  watch  the 
dwelling  on  all  sides.  My  horse  is  at  the  tavern — you  can  se 
cure  him  —  and  without  a  horse  I  can  not  fly  very  far.  I  wish 
but  to  make  my  acknowledgments  to  the  family  which  has 
treated  me  with  so  much  kindness." 

"You  ought  t'have  done  all  that  before,  my  lark  — there's 
no  time  for  you  now.  So  set  forward.  I  tell  you  there's  no 
trusting  you.  You  clipped  me  over  my  noddle  already,  the 
first  day  I  set  hands  on  you,  and  my  jaw  isn't  quite  smooth  yet ; 
and  you  forget,  just  a  bit  ago  you'd  have  tried  it  again  with 
that  stout  hickory  that  helped  you  forward.  Twice  warned  is 
enough  for  me  —  I  don't  risk  a  third  scuffle  with  any  man  if  I 
can  help  it.  So,  look  you,  give  but  a  single  flirt  again,  and 
here's  into  you." 

The  fellow  showed  a  monstrous  bowie-knife  as  he  spoke 
these  words,  and  by  his  reckless  expression  of  countenance, 
suited  to  his  bold  and  unfeeling  language,  Vernon  readily  be 
lieved  that  his  better  policy  was  to  obey  quietly.  He  went 
forward,  and  encountered  the  hardy  Alabamian,  Jamison,  who 
was  just  about  setting  out  for  Wilson's  on  his  customary  after 
noon  visit  to  his  friend.  Saxon  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  rage  of  the  Alabamian,  as  he  wit 
nessed  the  degrading  situation  in  which  his  friend  stood.  He 
was  at  once  for  fighting  the  officers,  and  nothing  but  the  most 
earnest  appeals  from  Vernon  kept  him  from  violence.  One 
thing,  however,  he  was  resolved  to  do,  and  in  this  particular  our 
hero  was  satisfied  he  should  have  his  own  way  —  that  was  to 
cut  the  cords  which  bound  the  arms  of  the  prisoner.  He  drew 
his  knife  for  the  purpose,  and  was  advancing,  when  the  consta 
bles  both  opposed  him  with  like  weapons.  But  he  was  not  to 
be  intimidated  by  this  show  of  valor. 


ASSAULT CUSTODY A    RIDE    TO    PRISON.  29£ 

"There's  two  ol'  you,"  !hi  s.-iiii.  "  !MI!  1  fount  myself  good  for 
three,  at  least,  such  slender  chaps  as  you;  so  here  goes  at  your 
kidneys,  and  one  drive  of  my  six-pounder  will  let  more  sins  out 
of  your  carcasses  than  all  the  saints  could  ever  put  in  virtues." 

With  an  earnestness  which  left  nothing  to  conjecture,  the 
stout-heart  Alabamian,  wielding  his  knife  in  air  —  a  huge,  bright 
instrument,  with  a  back-bone  like  that  of  a  butcher's  cleaver,  so 
heavy  that  its  own  weight,  if  falling,  must  have  made  its  wounds 
deadly  —  prepared  to  rush  forward  upon  the  constables.  But 
these  worthies  were  not  willing  to  wait  for  such  an  encounter 
Receding  from  their  posts,  they  clamored  to  the  bystanders  for 
protection,  crying  out  a  "rescue"  —  a  "rescue."  Without  heed 
ing  their  clamor,  or  suffering  anything  to  divert  him  from  his 
purpose  until  it  was  finished,  Jamison  cut  the  cords  of  the  pris 
oner,  and  seizing  the  moment  when  the  officers  were  most  noisy 
and  most  remote,  he  whispered  in  his  ear  : — 

"Be  off  now,  Harry  Vernon  —  there's  my  own  horse  hitched 
close  beside  you,  and  I'll  keep  off  the  rascals  while  you're 
mounting.  Show  'ern  clean  heels,  and  I'll  be  after  you  with 
your  own  nag,  and  will  join  you  at  Buzzard's  Roost  in  two 
hours.  They're  afraid  of  me,  the  niggers,  and  you  see  I  ain't 
afraid  of  them.  D — n  'em,  I  don't  mind  half  a. dozen  of  them, 
fair  front  and  no  dodging.  So  go  ahead,  my  boy,  and  leave  the 
scatteration  to  me.  You're  too  weak  to  fight  now,  so  there's 
DO  reason  or  right  to  expect  it  of  you." 

The  Alabamian  was  astounded  when  Vernon  thanked  him, 
but  declared  he  had  no  purpose  of  the  kind. 

"  I  am  innocent  of  the  charge,  Mr.  Jamison,  and  do  not  feai 
to  meet  it." 

"  Oh,  well !  That's  right  enough  ;  but  guilty  or  innocent, 
you  see,  Harry,  when  they're  for  putting  ropes  on  a  freeman, 
that's  a  time  to  be  off,  or  to  fight  with  tiger's  tusk.  I'm 
all  grinders  after  that,  and  a  ridge-saw  that  works  along  the 
middle." 

Meanwhile  the  clamors  of  the  constables  were  gathering  a 
crowd  about  them. 

"He  has  cut  the  prisoner  loose  —  the  man  that  murdered 
Tom  Horsey  —  help  !  —  seize  !  —  catch  the  murderer,"  &c. 

"Shut  up,  you  yelping  pugnosc  !"  cried  the  indignant  Aln 


800  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

bamian ;  "none  of  your  <{ d  lies  about  a  business  you  can't 

understand.  Look  you,  men,  they  had  the  gentleman  corded 
up  as  if  he  had  been  a  panther  of  the  wilderness  —  roped  his 
hands  behind  him  —  and  he  just  out  of  a  sick-bed,  and  making 
no  resistance,  and  telling  them  all  the  while  he  was  ready  to  go 
along  with  'em.  It's  only  they're  sich  blasted  cowards,  afraid 
of  a  sick  man  —  afraid  of  any  man.  Dang  my  buttons,  I'm 
almost  ashamed  I  didn't  borrow  a  pen-knife  to  do  the  business. 
This  bowie-blade  is  a'most  too  big  for  such  etarnal  small  souls 
as  they've  got/' 

"  You  hear  him  confess  he  drew  his  knife  upon  us  ?"  said  one 
of  the  officers  to  the  crowd. 

"Ay,"  said  Jamison,  "and  how  it  scared  the  niggers  white 
when  they  saw  it." 

"  He  rescued  the  prisoner  from  us." 

"A  lie,  nigger  —  he's  at  your  service  —  he  says  it  himself — 
so  bring  out  his  horse;  and  I'll  tell  you  another  thing — I'm 
at  ^y  our  service  too.  I'll  ride  along  with  you  and  see  fair  play, 
and  if  you've  got  anything  to  say  agin  Dick  Jamison,  let  it  out 
as  loud  as  you  please  when  yon  stand  before  the  judge." 

The  scene  ended  with  the  quiet  departure  of  Vernon,  accom 
panied  by  his  friend  Jamison,  under  the  enforced  escort  of  the 
officer*. 


THE   STAGE-HERO    AND   THE   INCUBUS.  301 


\ 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

fHE    STAGE-HERO    AND    THE    INCUBUS  —  ROMEO    APPROACHES 
THE    FOOTLIGHTS    UNDER    A    FAMOUS    MANAGER. 

Caliban.  Lo,  how  lie  mocks  me!   wilt  thou  let  him,  my  lord? 
Trinculo.  Lord!   quoth  he,  that  a  monster  should  be  such  a  natural! 

The  Tempest. 

HAVING  now  fairly  lodged  Vernon  for  the  murder  of  Horsey, 
it  is  high  time  that  we  should  retrace  our  steps  and  look  into 
the  progress  of  the  latter  important  personage.  Though  some 
what  baffled  in  his  hope  of  having  a  companion,  in  a  kindred 
spirit,  to  the  end  of  his  journey,  the  stage-struck  hero  was  not 
without  hi?  consolation  in  the  moment  of  the  parting  from  his 
friend.  He  was  on  his  way  to  the  scene  of  action  ;  another  day 
would  bring  him  to  the  place  where  the  wandering  tribe  was  to 
be  found,  for  whoso  communion  he  panted  even  as  the  hart 
panteth  after  the  water-brooks ;  and  visions  of  theatrical  glory 
began  to  gather  on  his  eyes.  With  that  restlessness  of  ima 
gination  .which  betrayed  itself  in  everything  which  he  said  and 
did,  he  was  already  fancying  himself  in  the  midst  of  such  diffi 
culties,  arising  from  bad  management  and  the  labored  rivalry 
of  inferior  persons,  as  were  really  grateful  to  a  man  of  his  tem 
perament.  His  cogitations,  which  broke  forth  at  moments  into 
rabid  soliloquy,  were  most  generally  of  this  description.  Now 
he  laughed  at  the  idea  of  Jim  Tilton  and  Hugh  Peters,  and  the 
ridiculous  figures  which  they  must  cut  as  Brutus  and  Julius 
Caesar;  at  the  next  moment,  he  was  soliciting  their  applause 
for  some  new  reading  with  which  he  contemplated  to  astound 
the  natives  and  improve  Shakspere.  Anon  he  went  back  to 
the  cottage  of  Yarbers,  and  his  visions,  then,  were  of  Mary 
Clayton,  as  iie  most  perfect  Juliet  that  over  stimulated  tbe 


802  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

best  capacities  of  a  Montague ;  and  as  that  fancy  worked  in  hii 
mind,  his  voice  grew  more  emphatic,  and  a  spectator  in  the 
bushes  might  have  been  no  less  surprised  than  amused  to  have 
heard  and  seen  him  as  he  rode,  declaiming  at  the  full  pitch  of 
his  lungs  to  Juliet  in  the  balcony;  and,  at  moments,  in  tire 
earnestness  of  his  action,  almost  flinging  himself  from  the  un 
gainly  and  venerable  steed  of  his  sire,  whose  neck  he  sometimes 
embraced,  by  a  very  natural  error  of  his  imagination  which  con 
founded  it  with  the.form  of  Juliet,  or  Mary  Clayton  rather,  who 
in  such  moments,  seemed  brought  immediately  within  his  reach 

In  this  manner,  with  a  mind  far  away,  in  a  province  utterly 
foreign  to  that  through  which  his  only  half-conscious  person 
travelled,  he  went  forward  without  interruption,  and  was  only 
brought  back  to  the  actual  condition  of  things  around  him  when 
he  reached  the  river,  and  the  grim  Charon  of  that  Stygian 
stream,  leading  his  horse  through  bog  and  sluice,  contrived, 
with  some  difficulty,  and  after  no  little  delay,  to  place  the  two 
fairly  in  his  boat.  Some  time  was  consumed  in  conveying 
him  across;  for  the  river  swamp,  in  the  day  of  which  we  vu-ite, 
was  one  of  the  most  interminable  intricacies  that  ever  distressed 
a  good  steed  or  vexed  an  impatient  traveller.  But  the  delay 
did  not  so  much  affect  the  actor.  He  soon  made  a  companion 
of  the  boatman,  a  simple,  stupid  fellow,  who  scarcely  compre 
hended  five  of  all  the  words  that  were  said  to  him,  and  an 
swered  none. 

But  Horsey  needed  no  answer — his  only  object  was  an  audi 
tor,  and  he  was  sufficiently  satisfied,  if  suffered  to  talk  on  with 
out  stint  or  limit,  though  tiie  hearer  made  no  response  to  any 
of  the  questions  whic1"  ne  asked.     These  were  neither  few  no? 
unimportant ;  but  as  tne  actor  did  not  wait  for  an  answer,  wlr 
should  we  ?     He  was  soon,  comparatively  speaking,  set  acros 
the  river;  but  the  thousand  hollows  of  the  swamp,  filled  wit 
the  waters  of  a  recent  freshet,  were  around  his  path,  leaving  • 
at  moments   doubtful    in  what  direction  he  should  pursue  In 
way. 

But  Tom  Horsey  was  not  the  man  to  suffer  himself  to  be  be 
wildered  long.  His  mind  soon  ran  off  in  the.  direction  of  his 
desires,  and,  looking  rather  to  the  end  of  his  journey  than  to  his 
course,  he  gave  himself  not  much  concern  about  the  way  which 


THE   STAGE-HERO    AND    Tli£   INCUBUS.  308 

led  to  it.  After  a  few  moments  of  reluctant  attention,  in  which 
it  seemed  to  his  eyes  that  all  his  efforts  only  led  his  hobbling 
horse  from  one  sluice  into  another,  he  soon  forgot  everything 
but  the  one  subject  most  at  his  heart;  and  if  his  allegiance 
wavered  for  an  instant,  it  was,  perhaps,  in  regard  to  an  excep 
tion  which  might  be  considered,  indeed,  only  as  an  <mxiliar  to 
the  other — namely,  the  person  of  Mary  Clayton,  and  she  as 
Juliet. 

With  a  mind  thus  directed,  he  had  no  attention  to  bestow 
upon  the  external  world  around  him,  and  did  not  seem  to  heed, 
or  be  conscious  of  the  fact,  that  the  day  was  approaching  to  its 
close  —  and  that,  so  far  from  nearing  the  cottage  where  he  pro 
posed  to  spend  the  night,  he  had,  in  fact,  utterly  departed  from 
everything  like  a  road,  his  horse  slowly  toiling  forward  through 
Indian  footpaths  that  deepened  occasionally  into  the  cart  or 
wagon-width,  but  only  at  places  where  the  presence  of  bog  or 
creek  suggested  the  best  of  reasons  why  they  should  do  so,  and 
not  because  they  had  ever  been  employed  by  any  such  vehicle.*. 
But,  utterly  absorbed  in  his  own  speculations,  none  of  these 
signs  were  perceptible  to  the  actor,  and  night  would  have  come 
upon  and  caught  him  in  the  swamp  before  he  would  have  been 
conscious  of  his  predicament,  but  for  the  sudden  appearance, 
upon  his  path  of  one,  whose  wild  and  uncouth  exterior  and 
abrupt  entree  were  of  too  startling  a  character  to  pass  without 
regard. 

The  stranger  was  a  chunky  little  imp,  not  more  than  four 
feet  high,  wearing  a  bunch  upon  his  shoulder,  which  at  first 
glance,  suggested  to  Horsey  the  idea  of  a  native-born  Richard. 
His  arms  were  long  like  those  of  an  ape ;  his  ears  of  corre 
sponding  dimensions ;  his  lips,  pursed  into  a  point  like  two  bits 
cf  shrivelled  coonskin,  were  covered  with  a  thick  furze,  not  un 
like  that  of  the  hair  upon  the  same  animal;  and  with  a  short, 
pug-like  nose,  and  little,  quick,  staring  gray  eyes,  that  peeped 
out  from  under  a  shagg}  tvhite  pent-house  of  hair  ;  he  pre 
sented  altogether  the  most  comical  appearance  that  could  be 
imagined,  and  one  that  would  have  made  the  fortune  of  a  cun 
ning  showman  in  any  of  the  Atlantic  cities.  His  legs,  though 
short,  were  strangely  bowed  —  indeed,  the  extreme  curve  which 
they  described  was  one  cause  of  their  shortness.  He  might  have 


804  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

risen  to  five  fair  feet,  could  they  have  been  smoothed  out  sym 
metrically.  As  he  went  forward,  which  he  did  with  a  readiness 
that  occasioned  surprise  in  the  spectator,  the  bow  of  the  ad 
vanced  leg  would  completely  overlap  the  other,  so  that  he 
would  seem,  to  the  passing  glance,  in  possession  of  one  only. 

His  garb  contributed  something  to  his  comical  appearance. 
He  wore  tights,  as  pantaloons,  which  showed  to  a  nicety  the 
attenuated  size  of  the  crooked  limbs  on  which  he  depended  for 
support.  He  seemed  almost  entirely  without  flesh.  The  lower 
limbs  were  not  merely  short  and  deformed,  but  slender  to  a  de 
gree,  which  made  the  spectator  apprehensive  that  they  might 
snap  as  readily  as  pipe-stems  under  the  swollen  and  dropsical 
bulk  of  body  which  they  carried.  But  this  show  was  decep 
tive.  The  urchin  had  an  elasticity  of  muscle,  a  capacity  of 
stretch  and  endurance  in  his  sinews,  and  a  share  of  positive 
strength  in  his  excessive  breadth  of  shoulders,  which  made 
him  little  inferior  in  conflict  to  most  ordinary  men,  and  in 
speed  he  could  have  outwinded  the  best. 

A  little  jacket  of  green  bombasin,  made  on  a  plan  quite  a? 
narrow  and  contracted  as  the  breeches,  rendered  the  hump  sin 
gularly  conspicuous  upon  his  shoulders ;  and  by  contracting 
these  somewhat  too  closely,  served  to  throw  the  long  and  apish 
arms  out  from  the  body  in  such  a  manner  as  greatly  to  increase 
the  similitude  between  the  owner  and  the  ungainly  animal  to 
which  we  have  likened  him.  A  coonskin  cap,  set  rather  jauntily 
on  his  cocoanut-shaped  head,  and  tied  under  his  chin  with  a 
green  riband,  completed  this  parody  on  man,  who,  leaping  sud- 
lenly  out  of  a  green  bush  in  the  middle  of  a  mud  puddle,  that 
Jay  beside  the  path,  proved  a  more  startling  object  of  terror  to 
the  horse  of  the  actor,  than  of  surprise  to  himself. 

The  animal  sunk  back  on  its  haunches  with  a  snort  of  terror ; 
and,  with  a  greater  show  of  muscle  and  spirit  than  he  had 
deigned  to  vouchsafe  since  he  had  begun  the  journey  from  Ray 
mond,  he  was  for  wheeling  about  in  good  earnest,  and  making 
fleeter  back  tracks  than  he  had  ever  made  before.  But  that 
Horsey  was  a  born  rider,  like  every  other  western  man,  he  had 
been  soused  for  a  season  in  any  one  of  the  hundred  miry  hab 
itations  of  frog,  hog,  and  alligator,  which  so  thickly  garnished 
the  low  territory  around  him 


THE   STAGE-HERO   AND    THE    INCUBUS.  305 

Meanwhile  tlie  little  urchin  stood  upright,  or  as  nearly  up 
right  as  he  could,  in  the  narrow  pathway,  never  making  the 
slightest  movement  to  budge  or  assist  the  rider,  but  grinning 
with  a  smile  of  satisfaction  at  every  wheel  and  flirt  of  the  still 
frightened  animal,  which  promised  to  fling  his  rider  into  the 
ditch.  The  unassisted  efforts  of  Horsey,  however,  managed  to 
evade  these  attempts,  and,  at  length,  finally  succeeded  in  subdu 
ing  the  spirit  —  no  difficult  task  —  even  if  he  did  not  so  soon 
quiet  the  terrors  of  "  Old-dot-and-go-one."  Shaking  his  finger 
at  the  dwarf  as  he  forced  the  horse  forward,  the  actor  exclaimed, 
with  a  degree  -of  good  nature  which  probably  arose  from  the 
consciousness  that  his  good  horsemanship  had  not  been  without 
a  spectator  —  and  which,  had  he  not  been  the  conqueror  in  the 
strife,  would  not  have  been  so  apparent : — 

"Ah,  you  comical  little  fellow  !  how  you  scared  my  horse  !" 

"And  you  too,  if  the  truth  was  known,  I  reckon!"  was  the 
unhesitating  reply  of  the  urchin.  "  I'm  a  man  mighty  apt  to 
scare  people  that's  not  used  to  me." 

"  Gad  !  there's  reason  in  what  you  say  !"  exclaimed  the  actor. 
"  But  look  you,  my  pretty  little  Jack  of  Clubs,  suppose  I  had 
been  a  sour-tempered  fellow  instead  of  what  I  am,  what  would 
I  be  doing  at  this  time,  and  what  sort  of  speech  would  you  be 
making  ?  Wouldn't  I  be  using  a  hickory  upon  your  shoulders, 
my  lad,  for  scaring  my  horse,  and — " 

"His  rider!"  The  urchin  finished  the  sentence  after  his 
own  fashion.  "Ha!  ha!  ha!"  The  woods  rang  with  his  yel- 
iing  laughter  —  a  peal  more  strange  and  unnatural  than  any 
thing  in  his  shape.  "Ha!  ha!  ha!  Mr.  Traveller  —  more  easy 
said  than  done.  If  the  thing  were  tried,  it  might  be  your 
shoulders  and  my  hickory ;  and  if  you  think  otherwise,  why, 
you  can  only  begin  the  business  as  soon  as  you  please." 

"  Say  you  so,  you  little  apology  for  a  man  —  you  little  cock- 
a-doodle-doo  ! —  I'm  almost  tempted  to  try  odds  with  you  for 
the  fun  of  it,  for  riding  by  one's  self  makes  one  rather  dull,  and 
the  fun  that  turns  up  by  the  roadside  is  always  apt  to  be  the 
funniest.  Wait  a  bit,  then,  till  I  can  cut  a  hickory." 

,And  the  actor  made  a  show  of  dismounting  as  he  spoke. 

"Boo!  boo!"  cried  the  little  urchin  with  a  yell,  as,  leaping 
from  the  path,  he  ran  along  a  fallen  tree,  slippery  with 


BORDER 


that  rose  out  of  the  ooze  of  the  swamp  and  stretched  away  into 
a  canebrake,  in  the  midst  of  whose  tops  the  dwarf  squatted 
himself  down,  and  grinned,  and  laughed,  and  pointed  with  his 
finger  at  the  assailant,  confident  that  he  could  not  so  easily  he 
approached  hy  an  unpractised  footman,  and  secure  of  a  second 
means  of  flight  in  the  branches  of  a  tupola  hanging  above  him 
into  which  a  customary  leap  would  easily  carry  him. 

"Ah!  ha!"  exclaimed  Horsey,  "there  you  are;  and  you 
think  yourself  safe,  do  you,  but  what  do  you  think  of  that,  my 
little  mannikin,  eh  ?" 

He  pointed  a  pistol  upward  as  he  spoke,  but  the  derisive 
laugh  of  the  dwarf  mocked  this  exhibition,  as  he  in  turn  pro 
duced  from  his  breast  a  like  weapon,  the  dimensions  of  which 
would  have  swallowed  up  those  of  his  assailant. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  and  what  do  you  think  of  that  ?"  said  the  urchin. 
"  It's  snout  for  snout  —  and  the  advantage  is  all  o'  my  side  as 

yet." 

"  How  do  you  make  that  out,  you  pretty  little  deformity  ?" 
demanded  the  actor,  in  good-natured  accents,  amused  rather 
than  annoyed  by  the  readiness  of  the  urchin. 

"  Well,  it's  easy  enough,  and  you  might  see  for  yoim  jlf,"  re 
plied  the  other;  "I'm  rather  the  littlest  man  of  the  s  tvo,  but 
I  have  the  biggest  pistol  —  you're  the  biggest  man  v  .th  the 
littlest  pistol.  Ain't  my  chance  the  best  to  hit,  you  big  fellow 
—  ain't  it  now  ?  Suppose  we  try  —  that's  the  best  way  >  •  come 
*  at  it  —  you  may  bang  away  first,  for  all  the  good  it's  g>  ing  to 
do  you." 

"Come  down,  you  small  specimen  of  humanity  —  you  young 
est  son  of  the  little  old  gentleman  in  black,"  said  the  actor, 
with  a  hearty  good  humor  that  satisfied  the  dwarf  there  was 
nothing  more  to  fear.  "  Come  down,  you  queer  little  cox 
comb,  and  let's  hear  all  about  you.  You  are  certainly  the 
strangest  sniggering  little  scamp  that  I've  seen  in  all  my 
travels.  You'd  make  a  most  superb  fellow  on  tLe  8-age  — 
a  witch  in  Macbeth  —  no  !  —  Gad,  maybe  you're  cue  of  us 
already  !" 

"  Maybe  I  am,  maybe  I'm  not  !"  said  the  dwarf,  witli  i  grin. 
as  he  descended.  "  Who  are  you  —  can  you  bite  V 

«  Bite  I" 


THE  STAGE-HEKU  AND  THE  INCUKUS.        307 

"  YUJ,  bite;  have  you  got  teeth  to  bite,  or  are  yon  nothing 
but  a  barking  dog  ?" 

"  Teeth  to  bite  — barking  dog  !  — why,  you  talk  as  queerly  as 
you  look,  my  little  Richard." 

"  Richard  !     Why,  who  told  you  my  name  ?" 
"  What !  your  name  is  Richard,  then  ?" 

"Yes,  with  a  pair  of  scales  to  the  end  of  it — you  couldn't 
guess  that,  I  reckon !" 

"  No  !  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"I'll  tell  you  —  my  name  is  Richard  Stillyards,  or  Dick 
Stillyards —  sometimes  they  call  me  Dick  Still,  and  sometimes 
Dkk  Yards,  and  then  it's  only  when  I'm  in  the  humor  that  I 
answer  them.  I  always  answer  gentlemen  when  they  call  me 
by  my  right  name." 

This  was  said  with  a  manner  which  filled  Horsey  with  mer- 
riment,  and  would  have  filled  a  wiser  man  with  sadness.  The 
swagger,  the  solemn  strut  with  which  it  was  accompanied,  and 
the  air  of  superiority  with  which  the  narrow  and  protrusive 
chin  was  perked  forward,  had  in  it  so  much  of  a  rotund  self- 
conceit,  that  never  was  that  foible  of  humanity  so  completely 
be-mocked  and  be-devilled. 

"  Why,  what  is  there  to  laugh  at,  I  wonder,"  said  the  dwarf, 
in  tones  and  with  a  manner  of  more  real  dignity,  though  with 
an  equally-ludicrous  effort. 

"Hark  ye,  Stillyards,  my  dear  fellow,"  cried  the  good-natured 

Horsey,  "  let  us  shake  hands.     You're  a  d d  comical  little 

fellow,  Stillyards,  and  we  must  jog  on  together.  I'll  make  your 
fortune,  Stillyards;  by  the  powers,  you  shall  grow  famous  — 
you  sliall.  Don't  you  grin,  my  boy,  I'm  telling  you  nothing 
but  the  truth.  You  shall  grow  famous  and  make  your  fortune. 
You  shall  be  one  of  us  — and  I'll  undertake  your  tuition.  By 
the  ghost  of  David,  Stillyards,  I'll  find  you  a  dozen  characters 
in  Shakspere  alone  which  could  not  be  done  by  anybody  half 
so  well  as  yourself.  You  have  read  Shakspere,  Stillyards,  have 
you  not  1" 

"Read  !"  said  the  dwarf,  with  something  like  a  sinking  of  his 
dignity.  "  Well,  stranger,  to  say  the  truth,  reading  ain't  my 
I)-- '-OPSS,  though,  1  suppose,  I  could  laru  just  as  soon  as  anybody 
else.  There's  a  nigger  of  J  oe  Smith's,  named  Peter — his  young 


308 


BORDER    BEAGLES. 


missis  taught  him  to  read  in  a  short  six  months  only,  and  he 
can  now  read  write-hand  'most  as  good  as  print.  I'm  sure  if  I 
hal  any  chance,  I  could  larn  as  quick  as  Peter." 

:<  Devil  a  doubt,  Dicky,  that  you  might,  but  who's  to  learn 
ycu,  unless  you  could  persuade  the  same  young  lady  that  taught 
Peter  to  give  you  a  few  lessons  ?" 

"  Why,  didn't  you  say  you'd  larn  me  .'"  said  Richard  Still 
yards,  with  a  grin  of  satisfaction  that  caused  a  considerable  en- 
croachment  of  his  mouth  upon  the  territory  usually  conceded  to 
cheeks  and  ears. 

"  To  speak  and  act,  you  terrapin,  and  not  to  read,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  Look  you,  stranger,  if  it's  the  length  of  my  teeth  you  Want, 
to  know,  call  me  out  of  my  name,"  replied  the  urchin,  with  a 
grave  air  of  offended  dignity.  "  You're  not  the  first  man  that's 
lost  flesh  between  my  jaws  for  making  too  free;  so  it's  jist  as 
well  you  should  know  it  beforehand.  I  know  I'm  a  little 
smaller  than  you,  and  maybe  not  quite  so  good  looking,  but 
that's  neither  here  nor  there,  and  I  don't  mind  the  difference  of 
size  no  more,  when  I  feel  wolfish,  no  more  than  I'd  mind  a 
dog-bark  in  a  seedy  night.  I  axed  you  a  question  jist  now, 
and  didn't  get  an  Answer." 

"  What  was  that,  Mr.  Richard  Stillyards  ?"  demanded  Hor 
sey,  with  an  air  of  respectful  deference,  exceedingly  delighted 
with  the  strange  monster  he  had  encountered,  and  disposed, 
with  a  true  actor's  fondness  for  fun,  to  humor  the  weakness 
which  betrayed  itself  so  ludicrously. 

"What  was  it,  Mr.  Richard  ?  —  speak  again,  and  don't  im 
agine  for  an  instant  that  I  am  at  all  desirous  to  fill  your  jaws 
with  my  flesh,  as  I  can  not  say  with  certainty  that  I  have  any 
to  spare  —  certamiy  none  to  spare  unless  you  are  willing  to  take 
it  just  where  I  give  you  leave.  I  could  give  you  a  bite  in  one 
place  or  in  another,  and  not  miss  it,  perhaps,  but  it's  likely 
you'd  be  choosing  for  yourself.  Eh  ?" 

The  literal  manner  in  which  Horsey  had  chosen  to  accept 
the  coarse  figurative  language  which  the  urchin  had  employed 
was,  in  western  parlance,  "  a  huckleberry  above  his  persim 
mon,"  and  Mr.  Richard  Stillyards  began  to  regard  his  com 
panion  as  an  animal  no  less  strange  to  him  than  he  appeared  to 


THE  STAGE-HERO   AND   THE   INCUBUS.  oU9 

Horsey.  After  a  brief  space,  \\iiich  he  devoted  in  silence  to  a 
jealous  survey  of  those  features  which,  by  this  time,  the  actop 
had  schooled  into  inflexibility,  he  replied,  as  if  satisfied  with 
his  examination  : — : 

"I  was  a-thinking-  at  first,  stranger,  that  you  was  a-finming 
with  me,  but  I  believe  it's  only  because  you  don't  know  no  bet 
ter.  I'm  a  country  gentleman  in  these  parts,  and  have  com 
pany  camping  out  in  the  woods,  here  away,  down  by  the  corner 
of  Little  Bend  in  the  Cane  Prairie  —  every  fellow's  a  man 
among  'em,  all  barking  dogs  —  and  so  I  axed  you  about  your 
teeth." 

"  My  teeth  ?" 

"Yes,  your  teeth,"  replied  the  deformed  curiosity;  "ain't 
you  got  teeth  ?  Can't  you  bite  ?" 

The  actor  surveyed  him  with  intentness,  and  the  result  of  his 
examination,  as  he  beheld  the  bonajldc  earnestness  in  the  fel 
low's  face,  was  to  convince  him  that  Richard  Stilly ards  was  nn 
idiot  —  a  conclusion  which,  no  doubt,  has  been  already  reached 
by  the  reader.  But  let  him  not  be  mistaken.  Dick  was  no 
'diot,  but  a  cunning  owl  that  hoots  with  a  greater  drawl  of  mel 
ancholy  when  most  meditating  mischief.  He  had  his  purposes 
in  the  question  that  seemed  so  excessively  simple  to  his  com 
panion,  and  was  answered  satisfactorily  when  he  received  no 
answer. 

"Dick,  my  lad,  you're  a  strange  fellow.  To  ask  a  man 
whose  teeth  have  been  opening  upon  you  every  moment  sinco, 
we  have  met,  if  he  has  any !" 

"Oh,  no  harm,  mister  —  I  don't  mean  any  harm  —  to  be  sure, 
I  see  you  have  got  teeth,  and  I  oughtn't  to  ask,  but  it's  a.  way 
I've  got ;  but  you're  a-travelling  only  V  and  here  the  urchin 
gave  a  keen,  quick  glance  to  the  corpulent  saddle-bags,  filled 
to  the  brim  with  knight,  prince,  warrior,  and  tyrant,  which  hung 
across  the  saddle  of  the  actor.  In  a  second  instant  his  eye  was 
averted,  as  he  beheld  that  of  the  traveller  fixed  upon  him. 

"  Dick,  my  boy,"  said  Horsey,  "  you're  a  nut  for  the  devil  to 
crack;  d — me  if  I  can.  To  be  sure  I'm  a  traveller,  just  as  cer 
tainly  as  I've  got  teeth ;  and  now  that  you  remind  me,  I'd  like 
to  know  where  I'm  travelling,  arid  how  far  I  may  be  from  a 
place  of  lodging  ?" 


BORDER    BEAGLES. 

"  Wliy,  don't  you  know  ?" 

"Devil  a  bit!" 

"  What  J  you  don't  know  where  you're  a-travelliiig ?  J 
reckon  you  knew  when  you  begun  ?" 

"  Why,  yes !  that  I  did ;  but  look  you-  many  a  man  sets  out 
for  the  horse  and  finds  the  halter.  I  started  for  Benton." 

"  Benton  ?" 

"Yes,  Benton.  How  far  am  I  from  the  house  of  one  Jenk« 
Glover  r 

"  Jenks  Glover!  Why,  he's  on  the  lower  road  —  a  matter 
of  sixteen  miles  to  the  left  of  you.  You've  got  on  the  wrong 
track."  , 

"The  devil  you  say!" 

"  No  !  I  say  the  wrong  track  ;  it's  you  that  said  •  the  devil,' 
three  times,  or  maybe  more,  and  it's  no  wonder  you  lost  the 
road.  You  must  have  lost  it  after  the  first  jump  of  the  ferry." 

"And  it's  how  far  to  Benton  ?" 

"  Mush  !  I  can't  tell  you  —  it's  on  the  other  road,  and  a  smart 
roundabout  chance  to  get  to  it." 

This  news  confounded  our  traveller.  He  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  and  looked  round  him  upon  the  dismal,  dark,  and 
seemingly  impenetrable  swamp,  the  pale  cypresses  of  which 
shot  up  sparingly,  with  the  tupola  and  the  ash,  to  gigant?c 
heights,  interlaced  between  with  a  complete  wau  of  matted 
canes,  briers,  and  wild  thorny  vines,  that  promised  to  defy  even 
the  rude  pressure  of  the  grisly  bear,  or  his  more  good-natured 
sable  brother.  The  prospect  made  the  actor  shudder. 

Dick,  my  boy,"  he  said,  "  whose  is  the  nearest  house,  and 
how  far  ?" 

"  There  ain't  no  house  on  this  road,  that  I  knows  of,  and  no 
body." 

"  '  If  that  thy  speech  be  sooth  !'  "  the  actor  began,  after  the 
nature  within  him ;  but  the  dogged  stare  of  the  dwarf  warned 
him  that  his  companion  suffered  nothing  equivocal,  and  he  re 
sumed  in  plain  English:  "No  house,  Richard  —  no  house,  my 
dear  fellow?  —  Why,  what  am  I  to  do  —  where  am  I  to  sleep 
to-night  1" 

A  grin  diffused  itself  from  ear  to  ear  upon  the  fellow's  coun 
tenance,  as  he  listened  to  the  words  and  beheld  the  visible  COD 


THK    STAdFMiritO     AND    THE    INCUBUS.  311 

stcrnation  of  the  ;u-t<m      He  sensual  di-p<wn  to  amuse  himself 
at  the  expense  of  the  traveller. 

"  I  reckon  you  ain't  used  to  sleeping  out  of  the  dry.  You 
were  born,  maybe,  in  a  nice  house,  with  a  close  roof  to  it  ?" 

"Ay,  to  be  sure,  and  in  a  devilish  comfortable  bed  too,  1 
reckon;  but  what  then,  Dicky,  my -darling  ?" 

"It's  a  bad  chance  you'll  have  for  a  dry  house  here  in  Big 
Black  Swamp ;  there's  no  better  house  than  Cane  Castle,  and 
it's  so  large  you  can't  see  the  walls,  and  it's  so  high  you  can't 
see  the  roof;  and  if  you  ain't  used  to  the  stars  for  candles,  you'll 
have  to  go  to  bed  in  the  dark.  There's  no  house  near  by,  and 
only  one  under  ten  miles,  and  that's  'Squire  Nawls'—- and  he's 
a  judge,  and  don't  take  in  travellers." 

"  But  he  lives  on  the  Benton  road." 

"No  he  don't.  I  reckon  he's  on  the  upper  road,  a  smart 
distance  from  it.  As  for  road  —  you're  in  no  road  at  all  here  — 
you're  in  Big  Black  Swamp,  and  if  your  nose  was  long  enough, 
you  could  smell  the  river  at  a  short  mile  off,  on  your  right.  If 
you  was  used  to  the  smell,  you  could  smell  it  here  without  go 
ing  much  farther.  1  can,  easy  enough,"  — snuffing,  while  he 
spoke,  with  consummate  complaisance  —  "and  a  mighty  sweet 
smell  it  has,  too,  just  after  the  sun's  gone  down." 

"  You're  an  amateur,  Mr.  Richard." 

«No,  d d  if  I  am,  and  I  tell  you  agin,  stranger,  'twont  dt 

to  call  me  by  any  nickname.  I'm  Mr.  Richard  Stillyards,  01 
Dick  Stillyards,  and  I  won't  go  by  any  other,  so  I  warn  you 
before  danger." 

"Well,  Dick,  my  dear  fellow,  I'll  be  civil  — the  fact  is,  I'm  in 
no  humor  for  making  enemies.  But  tell  me  where  I  am  to  sleep 
to-night  —  where  shall  I  get  a  bed?" 

"  I  licked  Ike  Laidler  only  a  month  ago,  'cause  he  called  me 
a  little  sarcuinstance,"  continued  the  deformed. 

"And  sufficient  provocation  too,"  said  the  actor ;  "  but,  Mr 
Stillyards,  the  bed  —  the  bed  —  the  house  to  sleep  in." 

"  Well,  now,  stranger,  you're  mighty  pushing.  Ha'n't  I  told 
you  there's  no  house  under  ten  miles — " 

"  Then  you  told  a  whopper,  Dick  Toady,"  cried  a  third  per 
son,  suddenly  emerging  from  the  bushes  on  the  left,  and  inter 
rupting  the  dwarf  without  any  of  that  scrupulous  consideration 


312  BOUDER   BKAGLRS. 

upon  which  lie  was  so  iiM-vli  disposed  to  insist  in  his  con 
v  cisation  with  Horsey.  The  stranger  was  a  small  man,  with  a 
narrow  sunburnt  face,  a  hook  nose,  and  lively  twinkling;  gray 
eyes,  that  seemed  to  cover  a  world  of  cunning.  His  voice  was 
good-humored,  and  at  the  first  sound  of  it  the  dwarf  started 
with  an  air  of  dissatisfaction,  which  did  not  seem  to  justify 
the  free  and  familiar  manner  with  which  the  new-comer  had 
addressed  him. 

"  How  should  you  tell  the  gentleman,  Toady,  that  there's  no 
house  nearer  than  Judge  Nawls'  1" 

"  Well,  where's  any  ?" 

"  Why,  here,  you  blue-bottle,  here  in  Cane  Castle,  hard  by, 
within  a  Choctaw's  mile.  When  the  stranger  asks  for  a  house, 
what  does  he  mean  but  a  place  where  he  can  take  his  snooze 
out  without  danger  and  disturbance.  He  don't  mean  wall  of 
clay  and  clapboards  —  he  means  nothing  more  than  a  good  sup 
per  and  an  easy  sleep.  Am  I  right,  stranger  ?" 

Horsey,  somewhat  relieved  of  the  annoying  conviction  that 
he  must  sleep  in  a  canebrake  with  the  soft  ooze  of  a  rank 
swamp  in  place  of  a  mattress,  was  yet  not  utterly  satisfied  that 
this  description  of  his  desire  was  altogether  a  correct  one. 
Still,  there  seemed  little  choice,  and  the  free  and  easy  manner 
of  the  stranger  was  too  much  after  his  own  heart  not  to  rec 
oncile  him  to  things  even  more  disagreeable  than  those  he 
feared.  He  was  consoled  to  find  that  if  he  must  sleep  in  the 
swamp,  he  was  to  have  a  good  bedfellow  —  a  conviction  which 
had  not  soothed  him  for  an  instant  during  his  whole  protracted 
conversation  with  Mr.  Richard  Stillyards.  He  expressed  hie 
assent  to  the  suggestion  of  the  speaker,  though  in  a  qualified 
measure,  but  this  the  other  did  not  seem  to  perceive.  He  pro 
ceeded  in  his  speech  in  a  manner  still  more  agreeable  to  the 
traveller. 

"  We  are  a  few  of  us,  stranger,  almost  playing  gipsy  in  the 
swamp  to  save  expense.  There's  some  six  or  eight  of  us, 
Toady  here  not  being  counted,  though  he  may  be  thrown  in  as 
a  sort  of  make-weight.  We  sleep  pretty  much  in  a  huddle, 
under  pole  and  bush  tents,  and  there's  room  for  an  odd  one 
when  the  river's  foul  and  the  swamp  rises.  We  are  players  — 
play-actors  —  perhaps  you  don't  quite  know  what  a  player  igt 


THE   STAGE-HERO   AND   THE   INCUBUS.  313 

—  the  people  in  these  parts  look  on  us  with  as  much  wonder 
as  pleasure  —  we  play  plays  —  speak  speeches  —  show   tricks, 
dance  and  sing,  for  the  public  gratification  and  our  own.     We 
shall  soon  set  out  for  Benton,  Lexington,  Lucchesa,  and  other 
villages  —  soon  as  the  rest  of  the  boys  come  in  —  and  if  you'll 
keep  in  the  neighborhood  till  then,  you'll  see  rare  sport,  I  tell 
you  " 

The  effect  of  this  speech  upon  Horsey  may  readily  be  con 
jectured.  His  ejaculations  of  pleasure  interrupted  the  speaker 
a  dozen  times  before  he  had  finished,  and  then  he  grasped  his 
hand  with  a  hearty  tug  that  threatened  to  shake  his  arm  off. 
He  forgot  his  cares  of  bed  and  lodging  and  supper  —  all  cares 

—  all    doubts  —  all    apprehensions  —  in     the    one    predominant 
pleasure  that  filled  his  soul  ;  and  a  hundred  questions  and  ejac 
ulations  followed  each  other  too  rapidly  for  correction  or  reply, 
as  he  gave  free  vent  to  those  emotions  which  he  had  so  long  and 
so  unwillingly  restrained. 

"  And  you  belong  to  little  Jim  Tilton's  company  ?  And 
whore's  Jim  ?  —  I  knew  the  little  fellow  in  New  Orleans,  when  he 
was  —  a-hem  !"  He  was  about  to  say  candle-snuffer,  but  a  little 
prudence  came  to  his  aid  at  the  moment,  and  put  an  estopel  on 
his  tongue. 

"Jim  Tilton,"  said  the  other,  "is  no  go.  He's  but  a  poor 
drab,  and  the  less  we  say  of  him  the  better.  He's  not  with  us 
now,  and  I  seriously  doubt  whether  he'll  ever  show  his  face 
among  us.  It'll  be  a  dark  day  for  him  when  he  does." 

"  Ha  !  how  so  ?  how  so  ?" 

"Well,  he's  a  rogue  —  that's  the  long  and  short  of  it.  We 
played  at  Manchester  to  a  good  smart  chance  of  a  house,  and 
before  the  play  was  over,  Jim  was  missing,  and  the  treasury 
with  him.  We  heard  of  him  going  down  to  the  river  to  Vicks- 
burg,  and  that's  the  last.  He  won't  come  back,  unless  he  brings 
a  double  chance  of  picayunes  to  make  up  hush-money." 

"  The  skunk !  But  it's  like  him,"  said  Horsey.  "  He 
was  a  poor  shote  of  a  fellow  at  Orleans,  a  mere  candle- 
snuffer  for  Caldwell,  when  I  was  playing  second-rates  at  the 
American." 

"  You  playing  —  you  !  Why,  who  are  you  ?"  said  the  new 
comer,  with  a  very  natural  cxpie&sion  of  surprise. 

14 


314  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

4  My  name  is  Horsey,"  replied  our  traveller,  with  a  modest 
dropping  of  the  voice. 

"  Horsey  ! — Not  the  famous  actor  at  Ludlow's  in  Mobile  ?  It 
can't  be  possible.  Tell  me,  stranger  ?" 

The  gusto  with  which  this  was  spoken  —  the  voluminous  odor 
which  it  bore  up  into  the  mental  nostrils  of  Horsey,  was  as 
good  as  a  year's  growth  —  a  prize  in  the  lottery  —  or  a  crown 
ing  benefit.  His  blood  tingled  in  his  veins  from  head  to  foot, 
yet  never  did  mortal  face  struggle  more  hard  to  subdue  the 
exulting  smile — to  assume  and  wear  the  pursed-up  aspect  of 
humility. 

."  I  was  at  Ludlow's,"  he  replied,  modestly,  "  and  I  don't 
know  that  there  was  any  actor  there  but  myself  of  my  name ; 
but  I  was  not  famous  —  no,  no  !  I  did  some  good  things  —  I 
think  I  did  —  but  they  passed  without  notice.  I  do  not  think  I 
got  much  reputation  in  Mobile." 

"My  dear  sir,  you  do  the  Mobilians  injustice  —  great  in 
justice.  I  have  heard  of  you  a  thousand  times  in  Mobile,  and 
from  the  best  authorities.  Eea  thought  you  a  first-rate.  Res. 
was  an  excellent  judge  in  theatricals  —  my  particular  friend  —  a 
noble  fellow,  and  there  was  —  what's  his  name?  —  the  editor  of 
the  Commercial  —  ah?  devil  take  it,  I  have  such  a  memory. 
But  it  matters  not.  I  tell  you,  Horsey,  never  did  dramatic 
reputation  stand  higher  in  Mobile  than  did  yours.  You  were 
off  for  New  Orleans  when  I  reached  the  city,  but  everybody 
was  asking  after  you,  and  on  one  occasion  it  was  reported  you 
had  arrived  but  had  no  engagement,  and  then  there  was  a  hue 
and  cry  after  the  manager.  It  was  asked  in  all  the  papers 
why  you  were  not  engaged,  and  he  was  compelled  to  assure  the 
audience,  under  the  terrors  of  an  uproar,  that  you  should  be  en 
gaged  as  soon  as  your  arrival  was  made  known  to  him.  I  was 
present  at  the  time,  and  know  the  stir  it  made." 

"  Is  it  possible?     I  wonder  I  never  heard  of  it  before." 

"I  reckon  you  didn't  read  the  newspapers.  It  was  all  there 
—  all  put  down  as  large  as  life.  Nay,  if  you  were  in  Orleans, 
you  must  have  heard  of  it." 

"No,  —  indeed  I  didn't.  I  never  read  the  newspapers.  I 
took  a  dislike  to  editors.  I  thought  them  all  humbugs  —  they 
spoke  very  disrespectfully  of  inc.  nt  my  first  beginning,  and  1 


THE    STAdE-HERO    A>,'D    'M1E    INCUBUS.  815 

*-a»  resolved  never  to  read  their  stuff.  But  T  was  wrong,  I 
suspect — " 

"  Wrong  !  Yes,  that  you  were  !  You  have  shut  your  ears 
against  some  pleasant  truths.  If  they  treated  you  ill  at  first, 
they  made  you  ample  amends  afterward,  as  I  think  I  can  show 
you.  I  have,  I  think,  some  of  the  Mobile  Patriot  of  that  time 
that'll  open  your  eyes.  Newspapers  and  editors,  Mr.  Horsey, 
should  not  be  looked  down  upon  with  too  much  contempt.  They 
are  useful  in  their  way.  They  may  be  made  so  at  least;  and, 
between  us,  it's  best  to  treat  the  humblest  profession  with 
charity,  since,  if  our  managers  continue  this  trick  of  running 
away  with  the  strong  box,  there's  no  telling  to  what,  condition 
we  may  be  reduced.'* 

"  Very  true  !  But  what  could  be  expected  of  such  a  fellow 
as  Tilton.  I  was  astonished  when  I  heard  that  he  had  presumed 
to  set  up  for  a  manager." 

"  What !  you  heard  of  us  then  ?" 

"Yes  —  I  heard  of  you  down  in  Raymond,  and  my  purpose 
was  to  join  you." 

"Join  us  !  God  bless  you,  Mr.  Horsey.  It'll  be  the  making 
of  us,"  said  the  stranger,  grasping  Horsey's  hand  and  naming 
out  with  the  opening  in  Richard — 

'"Now  is  the  winter  of  our  discontent 

Made  glorious  summer  by  the  son  of  York.'" 

"That  was  well  spoken,  Mr.  —  ah,  pardon  me  !  — but  oblige 
me  with  your  name." 

"Jones!  an  humble  one,  sir,  utterly  unknown  to  fame!"  re 
plied  the  other  with  a  great  show  of  modesty. 

"It  may  be,  Mr.  Jones,"  replied  Horsey,  warmly;  "but 
those  two  lines  which  you  have  just  now  spoken  were  really 
well  said  — very  prettily  said  —  excellently  well  said.  I  shall 
[( ok  for  good  things  from  you.  Indeed,  I  shall." 

The  flatteries  of  the  stranger  had  seduced  the  judgment  of 
Horsey  into  a  corresponding  flexibility,  and,  in  a  few  moments, 
the  apprehensions  of  the  traveller  were  all  forgotten  in  the  ex 
ultations  and  resuscitated  hopes  of  the  actor.  The  anxieties 
natural  to  his  situation,  and  which,  but  a  moment  before,  had 
grown  almost  painful,  were  dismissed  entirely  from  his  mind, 


316  BOHDKR    BEAGLES. 

and  in  a  moment  he  bad  resumed  all  the  characteristics  of  man 
ner  and  feeling,  which  he  had  shown  to  our  readers  on  his  first 
introduction.  He  now  spoke,  ad  libitum,  of  plays  and  playing 
only.  Every  third  word  was  a  quotation ;  and  it  was  only 
when  the  new-comer,  who  had  kept  up  the  ball  with  no  little 
show  of  practice  and  ability,  found  his  corresponding  store1  of 
quotation  utterly  exhausted,  that  he  was  brought  brick  to  the 
more  immediate  necessities  of  his  situation.  It  was  now  the 
turn  of  Jones  to  remind  him  of  his  lodgings  for  the  night.  But 
it  was  not  so  easy  now  to  direct  the  attention  of  our  actor,  who, 
once  aroused  on  his  favorite  theme,  would  wag  a  tongue  in  its 
honor  so  long  as  the  member  itself  had  a  single  working  hinge 
to  depend  upon. 

"  But  we  forget,  Mr.  Horsey,"  said  Jones,  in  prosecuting  his 
often-baffled  purpose  —  "we  actors,  who  so  love  our  profession, 
are  very  apt  to  forget  other  matters.  Here  we  are,  wasting 
car  readings  upon  the  desert  air,  when  we  should  be  thinking 
upon  other  matters.  Supper  now  and  a  place  to  sleep  in  —  1 
must  crave  your  pardon  for  keeping  you  from  these  things  so 
long." 

"  Nay,  these  are  small  matters.  The  toast  and  tankard  can 
be  got  at  any  moment,  but  for  the  rest  —  what  of  my  old  prince 
of  Hickories  ?  What  of  Hugh  Peters,  and  how  are  his  timbers  ? 
He  to  make  a  Julius  Caesar?  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  The  thing's  ridi 
culous,  Jones;  and  he  must  be  got  rid  of  as  well  as  Tilton  — 
birds  of  a  feather  —  no  game  —  fellows  that  will  disgrace  us 
only.  Crows,  crows  !" 

"  Very  true,  sir  —  I  agree  with  you  fully,  but — " 

"  Oh,  to  be  sure,  I  know  there  will  be  a  difficulty  about  it ; 
—  it  will  be  unkind  to  drive. the  fellow  off  and  hurt  his  feelings; 
though,  d — n  his  impudence,  he  deserves  no  better  for  presu 
ming  on  such  a  vocation.  Why,  Jones,  I  remember  even  now 
the  comical  figure  the  old  fool  used  to  cut  in  giving  us  lessons 
in  reading.  Even  then,  when  I  was  a  mere  brat  of  a  boy,  and 
knew  little  or  nothing,  I  could  scarce  keep  my  face  to  see  him 
mouthing  out  the  golden  verses  of  the  great  master.  He'd  get 
upon  a  box  for  a  stage  —  his  bow  legs  at  a  straddle,  as  if  a  ditch 
lay  between  'em,  for  the  better  support  of  his  bag-of-cotton 
body;  and  then  he'rl  turn  his  little  turnippy  pugnose,  fairly 


THE   STAGE-HERO    AND    THE    INCUBUS.  317 

affronting  the  heavens,  and  his  lips  sinking  deep  at  every  sen 
tence  that  he  spoke,  in  the  hollows  where  his  teeth  were 
knocked  out  just  in  front  —  he  got  it  done  one  dark  night  as  he 
fell  over  a  wash-tub,  and  composed  himself  among  the  stumps 
of  a  new  clearing.  The  hole  was  large  enough  for  my  finger 

—  and  he  to  be  an  actor  !     Ha  !  ha, !  ha  !     It's  ridiculous  —  we 
must  get  rid  of  him;  though,  to  be  sure,  as  you  say,  we  must 
do  it  in  such  a  way  as  not  to  hurt  the  poor  devil's  feelings 
By  the  ghost  of  David,  though  I  should  remember  Little  Bow- 
legs  only  by  his  hickories,  yet  I'm  for  doing  it  tenderly.     We 
must  smooth  the  track  for  him,  so  that  lie  may  walk  off  freely. 
But  go  he  must,  if  we  hope  to  do  anything.     He'd  be  only  in 
the  way  —  he  can  do  nothing." 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure  —  you're  perfectly  right,  Mr.  Horsey,  and 
the  management  might  very  well  be  put  into  your  hands.  I'm 
sure  we  might  make  our  monster  Dick  here  do  everything  that 
Peters  might  do  ;  but,  as  I  was  saying — 

"  What,  Stillyards  !"  exclaimed  Horsey,  turning  upon  the 
attentive  dwarf,  who  stood,  all  the  vhile  the  dialogue  pro 
ceeded,  wondering,  with  owlet  eyes  and  broad-distended  mouth, 
swallowing  the  incomprehensible  stuff  that  he  never  could  di 
gest. 

"Look  you,  Jones,  that  fellow's  a  host  himself.  I  wouldn't 
give  my  friend  Dick  here  for  all  the  Peters  under  the  sun. 
He's  the  most  comical  fellow!  What  a  Caliban  he'd  make  — 
a  natural-born  Caliban  !  Egad  !  we  had  a  scene  between  us 
just  before  you  came  up  —  a  scene  for  a  melodrama  —  it  was 
worth  a  picayune  to  see  it.  He  ran  up  that  f /ee  like  an  orang- 
otang;  drew  out  his  barker,  squatted  on  his  haunches,  with 
the  felicity  and  grace  of  a  black  b.ear  at  a  honey-gum,  and  chal 
lenged  me  to  a  regular  exchange  of  shots.  The  comical  fellow 

—  he's  worth  a  company  himself;  and  in  New  York  —  look  ye, 
Jones,  after  all,  New  York's  the  place  —  on  the  Bowery,  that 
fellow,  as  Caliban,  would  be  a  sure  card,  and  we  must  play  him 
when  we  play  ourselves." 

"  We  must  talk  of  this  to-morrow,"  exclaimed  Jones,  des 
perately  ;  and  seizing  upon  the  only  pause  which  Horsey  had 
made  for  an  inconceivably  long  time  —  "I  will  send  Dick  for 
ward  to  get  things  in  readiness  for  us —  supper  and  a  bed.  Ho 


318  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

Dick  !  let  the  boys  know  that  the  great  actor,  Mr.  Hoisey,  ii 
coming  with  me.  Away,  by  the  gulleys,  while  we  ride  round 
We'll  be  with  them  in  a  half-hour." 

The  urchin  prepared  to  obey. 

"  But  why  not  go  along  with  Caliban  ?"  demanded  Horsey. 

"  For  the  best  of  reasons.  He  can  go  where  our  horses  can 
not.  On  a  line  we  are  but  a  poor  quarter  of  a  mile  ftom  our 
camp-ground;  it  will  be  a  good  half  hour's  ride  to  reach  it  the 
way  we  must  travel,  and  night  Avill  swallow  up  the  track  before 
we  are  done.  We  must  ride,  therefore,  to  make  up  lost  time. 
I  was  so  pleasantly  occupied,  Mr.  Horsey,  in  listening,  for  the 
last  half-hour,  that  I  never  saw  that  the  sun  had  left  us.  You 
must  give  our  boys  some  lessons  to-night  as  soon  as  supper's 
over." 

"Ah,  Jones,  you  flatter,"  said  our  friend,  modestly  ;  "  I  am 
no  such  man  as  you  think  me.  You  can  do  the  thing  quite  as 
well  as  myself." 

"No,  no!"  replied  the  other,  with  something  of  a  mournful 
tone,  as  he  rode  forward  —  "No,  no!  that  is  not  to  be  hoped 
for.  Would  to  Heaven  it  were  !" 

Horsey  followed  with  a  new  feeling  of  delight  within  his 
bosom.  The  tone  of  the  cunning  Jones,  the  words  he  em 
ployed,  not  to  speak  of  the  prospects  and  promises  of  ultimate 
and  unqualified  triumph  before  him,  were  all  so  much  heavenly 
manna  to  the  still  hungering  vanity  of  his  heart ;  and  never 
before,  in  all  his  career,  when  the  possession  of  money,  lavish 
ly  squandered,  secured  him  the  clamoring  applauses  of  the 
profligate  associates  who  misled  him,  had  he  received  a  rnm-o 
grateful  tribute  to  his  ruling  desire  than  that  afforded  by  an 
adroit  outlaw  of  the  Mississippi  border.  He  followed  his  guide 
without  suspicion,  and  was  soofi  SAvallowed  up  from  sight,  in  tlif 
darkness  that  now  environed  the  dense  swamps  of  the  J.oosa 
Chitta. 


KAiV    Iri-jfii    iio AN    AWKWAUI)    SOUAD 


CHAPTER    XX  VI  I. 

-  '.T    RECRUITS AN    AWKWARD    SUUAD — MORE    MYSTI 
FICATION. 

(hrb.  I  know  thee  honest. 
J/o.«/*'O.  You  do  lie,  sir. — VOLPONE. 

IT  was  quite  dark  before  Horsey  and  his  companion  came  to 
a  halt;  and  when  this  was  done,  the  former  looked  round  him 
•with  astonishment,  as  he  could  not  well  divine  at  first  the  rea 
son  for  doing  so.  There  was  no  more  sign  of  habitation  or 
human  comfort  then,  than  had  been  seen  at  the  moment  when 
he  encountered  the  dwarf.  Indeed,  if  possible,  the  locale  looked 
decidedly  worse  than  ever.  The  very  spot  on  which  they 
stopped  was  a  perfect  quagmire,  to  which  the  rising  waters  of 
the  contiguous  river  had  access  at  every  freshet ;  and,  beheld 
in  the  uncertain  starlight,  our  actor  could  see  that  there  were 
ponds  all  around  him,  and  little  crossing  brooklets  that  seemed 
to  struggle  slowly  through  the  thickening  ooze,  as  if  seeking  to 
regain  the  parent-stream,  by  whose  subsiding  torrents  they  had 
been  left.  A  dense  wall  of  canes  spread  itself  over  the  path  in 
trout,  and  Horsey  was  about  to  give  utterance  to  the  doubt  and 
bewilderment  which  he  felt,  when  his  companion,  who  seemed 
HI  nowise  disconcerted,  uttered  a  shrill  whistle,  which  was  in>- 
iru  diately  answered  by  the  deep  bay  of  a  beagle  at  a  little  dis- 
Uace  ahead. 

"  They  will  find  ns  now  in  a  twinkling,"  said  Jones ;  "  that 
dog  will  soon  tell  them  where  to  look,  even  if  that  crooked 
scamp,  Stillyards,  should  prove  a  sluggard  by  the  way.  You 
will  be  relieved  of  your  nag  in  a  few  moments,  Mr.  Horsey,  and 
we  will  coon  a  log  for  the  rest  of  our  journey.  So  much  foi 


320  BORDER  HK,U;U:S. 

living  in  a  swaipp.     These  are  difficulties  which  would  scarcely 
trouble  us  in  Natchez  or  New  Orleans." 

"  Well,  but  why  do  you  incur  them  ?  Why  live  in  the 
swamp?"  demanded  Horsey,  to  whom  the  leasing  difficul 
ties  and  perplexities  of  the  last  twenty  minutes  of  circuitous 
navigation  had  begun  to  suggest  certain  doubts  of  the  policy  ~f 
choosing  places  of  abode  for  which  there  seemed  no  ius'if  vlnfr 
necessity. 

"  Ha !"  said  the  other,  with  a  laugh,  "  there  are  troublei*  in 
the  city  which  we  have  not  here,  and  which  we  count  a  great 
deal  worse.  Here  we  should  laugh  at  a  sheriff's  officer  —  there 
we  should  pull  hat  and  bend  knee  to  him  in  respectful  deference ; 
and  if  you  ever  blarneyed  a  tailor  or  bullied  a  landlord  —  " 

"  Say  no  more,"  said  Horsey,  to  whom  the  references  of  Jones 
seemed  to  have  almost  a  personal  direction,  and  were  therefore 
sufficiently  conclusive  —  "  say  no  more  —  I  see  the  w.bdom  of 
your  arrangements,  and  were  I  as  near  New  Orleans  as  you  are 
to  Vicksburg  and  Benton,  I  should  most  probably  have  needed 
no  explanation." 

Some  merry  references  to  the  artifices  and  annoyances  of  duns 
and  dunnees  followed  this  sally,  in  the  relation  of  which  the  ex 
perience  of  the  two  seemed  to  be  by  no  means  unequal.  If 
Jones  had  his  story  of  sharps  and  flats  in  Vicksburg,  Nate;:'  x, 
Manchester,  and  Benton,  Horsey  could  tell  tales  quite  as  lively 
of  Mobile  and  Orleans  ;  and  could  these  stories  have  been  heard 
by  the  city  sufferers,  the  consolation  would  have  been  of  a  sort 
to  have  induced  a  large  addition  to  the  sum  total  on  the  oil'  side 
of  the  profit  and  loss  account.  Certainly,  the  most  patient  of 
all  fashionable  costumers  would  have  cursed  such  customers. 

Their  merriment  had  not  subsided,  when  the  figure  of  a  man 
plunging  from  a  fallen  tree  that  lay  half  covered  and  quite  con 
cealed  in  the  dark  by  the  canes  which  grew  luxuriantly  around 
it,  presented  himself  in  front,  and  immediately  took  charge  of 
tneir  horses.  A  word  between  Jones  and  the  new-comer  fur 
nished  sufficient  explanation  ;  and  the  former,  telling  Horsey  to 
follow  him  closely,  put  aside  the  canes  which  concealed  the  fal 
len  tree,  and  was,  an  instant  after,  hidden  from  sight.  Horsey 
followed  promptly,  and  found  himself  on  a  sort  of  natural  bridge 
which  carried  him  safe.ly  ,vm-  .1  creek,  of  whose  existence. 


RAW    RECRUITS AX    AWKWARD    SQUAD.  321 

though  but  ten  feet  from  where  he  had  been  standing:,  he  had 
not  till  that  moment  been  aware.  Though  deep,  and  pursuing 
a  direct  course  to  the  Loosa-Chitta,  it  kept  so  quiet  a  travel  all 
the  while  that  its  murmurs  were  barely  heard  among  the  canes 
that  grew  out  of  it,  even  when  Horsey  stood  directly  above  its 
bed ;  and  the  assurance  of  his  companion  only  then  certified 
him  of  its  existence. 

"  Steady  now,  Mr.  Horsey.  The  creek-  below  you  has  a 
depth  of  ten  feet,  and  a  sudden  souse  at  this  moment  would 
startle  more  alligators  than  a  man  could  ride  for  a  half-mi/p, 
around  us.  There  is  some  soft  clay  on  the  log  that  makes  it 
slippery,  and  if  you  find  it  ticklish,  you  had  better  squat  in  time 
and  coon  it." 

But  Horsey  was  too  good  a  Mississippian  to  need  such  can 
tious  counsel,  and  he  boldly  followed  his  conductor  after  his  own 
fashion,  and  in  perfect  safety.  A  few  moments  brought  them 
to  the  end  of  the  tree,  when,  leaping  to  the  earth,  after  the  ex 
ample  of  his  companion,  our  traveller  once  more,  after  a  lonj* 
interval,  found  himself  upon  terra  firma. 

"  Here  we  are,"  exclaimed  Jones,  "  in  the  immediate  neigh 
borhood  of  Cane  Castle.  Our  way  is  clear  enough,  though  it 
still  seems  thick  to  your  eyes.  We  are  in  an  Indian  trail, 
which  the  Choctaws  have  used,  I  reckon,  for  a  thousand  years. 
I  knew  it  was  ready  made  to  our  hands  —  our  feet,  rather  — 
and  very  good  use  we've  made  of  it  so  far.  Congratulate  your 
self,  Mr.  Horsey,  that  there's  no  hope  for  a  sheriff  here  !  'We 
have  security  in  the  bog  and  liberty  in  the  brake,  for  which  T 
know  one  poor  devil  that  would  pray  in  vain  were  he  in  tluj 
swamp  at  Natchy.  Here  you  may  laugh  as  loud  as  you  pleas*, 
and  sing  as  perverse,  and  no  one  to  remind  you  of  laws  and 
judges  —  no  one  to  say  'Shut  up  —  you  shall  neither  sing  IH-I 
smoke.'  There's  no  law  here  against  tobacco." 

These  assurances,  which  promised  so  great  a  degree  of  liboriy 
to  the  habitual  swearer,  singer,  and  smoker,  and  which,  in  brief! 
summed  up  the  amount  total  of  what  arc  usually  defined  as  t he- 
blessings  of  civil  and  religious  liberty,  did  not,  however,  see^n 
to  awaken  that  degree  of  satisfaction  in  the  mind  of  the  actor. 
which  was  justified  by  the  importance  of  the  promised  benefits, 
A  word  about  the  cast  of  characters,  or  the  selection  of  pieces, 

H? 


BORDER   BEAGLES. 

or  anything,  however  immaterial,  in  the  business  of  staging; 
would  have  called  for  infinitely  more  of  his  regards.  Receiving 
no  answer  to  what  he  had  spoken,  Jones,  with  practised  cun 
ning,  readily  changed  the  subject  to  one  more  grateful ;  and 
mustering  all  that  he  could  remember  of  the  plays  he  had  ever 
read  and  seen  acted,  he  contrived,  by  some  imperfect  quotations, 
to  divert  the  attention  of  Horsey  from  such  subjects  of  specula 
tion  as  would  most  probably  have  occurred  to  almost  every 
ordinary  traveller  in  his  present  situation.  Naturally  frank  and 
unsuspicious,  it  was  by  no  means  difficult  to  deceive  a  person 
whose  mind  was  so  completely  surrendered  up  to  the  one  en 
grossing  passion ;  and  though  exceedingly  acute  in  his  judg 
ments,  and  active  in  his  inquiries,  on  all  subjects  not  actually 
swallowed  up  in  the  maelstrom  of  that  mania  which,  at  an  in 
stant,  absorbed  everything  that  came  within  its  whirling  vortex, 
yet  nothing  was  more  easy  than  to  lead  him  off  from  the  minor 
pursuit,  by  the  suggestion  of  the  smallest  gleam  from  that  greater 
object  which  was  the  all  in  all  of  his  desires.  But,  on  this  head, 
the  reader  wants  no  new  lights  at  this  late  moment.  He,  per 
haps,  unlike  the  deluded  traveller  of  whom  we  write,  is  not  so 
sure  of  the  Thespian  character  of  those  performers  whom  the 
worthy  Horsey  is  about  to  encounter  in  the  swamp.  He  is  not 
Haw  to  be  told  that  —  but  why  should  we  anticipate? 

A  few  moments  sufficed,  following  the  little  Indian  footpath 
and  his  companion,  to  bring  the  actor  into  something  like  an 
opening  in  the  forest,  which  consisted  of  mingled  pines,  cypres 
ses,  and  ash  -trees,  closely  set,  and  still  more  closely  united  — 
save  in  the  opening  mentioned  —  by  the  matted  canes,  which 
seemed  to  fill  up  all  the  intervals  between  them,  and,  in  fact, 
formed  a  dense  margin  to  every  one  of  the  hundred  beds  of 
watery  ooze  which  skirted  the  river,  the  rank  and  festering  do- 
posit  e  of  a  thousand  years.  Here  the  actor  was  encountered  by 
gay  gleams  of  firelight  at  u  little  distance,  by  the  imperfect 
blaze  of  which,  he  discovered  himself  to  be  on  the  verge  of  a 
little  area,  or  amphitheatre,  in  the  swamp,  high  and  dry,  a  sort 
of  island,  the  circuit  of  which  was  probably  a  meagre  quarter 
of  a  mile  in  extent.  This,  following  his  conductor,  he  rapidly 
overpassed,  until  they  reached  a  sort  of  nook  whence  the  fire 
met  their  eyes. 


RAW    RECRUITS  —  A.\    AWKWARD    S^UAO.  823 


Here  they  found  as  merry  a  set  of  scamps  at  their  revels  as 
ever  blessed  the  sight  of  a  wayfarer  on  the  edge  of  a  gipsy  en 
campment.  There  were  about  seven  or  eight  persons,  squat 
upon  their  haunches,  and  busily  engaged  in  the  adventurous 
business  of  vingt-un  ;  a  sight  that  warmed  the  heart  of  our  trav 
eller  even  more  than  a  smoking  supper  might  have  done,  since, 
though  not  absolutely  dramatic  in  itself,  it  suggested  to  his  mind 
one  of  those  leading  associations  of  theatrical  life,  which  brought 
back  his  fading  memories  with  fresh  colors,  and  greatly  increased 
their  vitality. 

But  if  their  present  employment  seemed  natural  enough  to 
the  heyday  recklessness  of  the  ordinary  actor's  life,  there  was 
little  besides,  in  their  air  and  appearance,  to  justify,  in  the  mind 
of  Horsey,  their  adoption  of  the  business.  He  looked  in  vair, 
for  that  happy  ease,  sometimes,  in  "mouths  of  wisest  censure," 
esteemed  impudence,  which  distinguishes  so  greatly  the  actor 
by  profession.  The  dashing  effrontery,  the  devil-may-care  de 
portment  of  the  sect,  was  lacking.  There  was  none  of  the  grace 
ful  swagger  of  the  genteel  comedian  —  none  of  the  soleirn 
emphasis  of  him  who  wears  the  image  of  fate,  and  looks  habitual 
tragedy  upon  his  brow  —  a  Prometheus-like  gloom  and  defiance 
which  would  have  realized  the  ideal  of  an  ^Eschylus,  and  filled 
the  eyes  of  the  poet  with  the  figures  that  else  had  only  had  ex 
istence  in  his  mind;  and  as  for  the  comedy  of  stare,  and  £iiii. 
and  clatter  —  the  broad  fun,  and  ridiculous,  reckless  farce  — 
never  was  pleasant  company  so  utterly  without  its  enlivening 
and  mirth-compelling  attributes.  The  very  soul  of  every  ir.K-.-.l 
in  the  group  seemed  set  only  upon  the  sixpences  before  him. 
Mammon,  not  Momus,  was  the  god  of  the  entertainment,  and 
our  traveller's  anticipations  were  taken  half  aback,  as  he  beheld. 
an  expression  of  care  and  intensity  in  every  face,  so  utterly  un 
like  that  good-humored  indifference  to  fate  and  fortune,  which 
hitherto  had  been  to  him  one  of  the  chief  attractions  among  his 
intimates  of  the  lobby  and  the  green-room. 

"  These  chaps  have  greatly  mistaken  their  profession,"  was 
the  unexpressed  thought  of  the  idealist.  "  There  is  not  a  scamp 
among  'em  who  will  ever  do  more  than  snuff  a  candle  or  shout 
at  a  pageant.  They  will  give  me  no  support  —  they  will  bungle 
most  damnably.  'Then  came  oAch  actor  on  his  ass.'  Gad! 


324  BORDER    BKAGLES. 

the  ass  will  be  uppermost  here.  But  these  are  supernumeraries 
only.  There  must  be  others.  I  must  wait.  At  least,  I  am 
sure  of  good  foils,  if  I  have  no  rivals ;  and  if  they  can  make 
play  at  all,  they  will  give  me  all  the  chance  I  want.  But  they 
are  mere  'Turks  and  Muscoghees  —  a  sort  of  savages  that  will 
never  stop  till  they  scalp  what  they  have  murdered.  Their 
parts  are  all  in  danger  of  a  bloody  death.  But  —  buz  !  buz  !" 

The  introduction  of  the  stranger  was  rapidly  gone  through 
with  —  too  rapidly  to  enable  our  traveller  to  witness  any  of 
those  beauties  of  deportment  which  he  still  fancied  might  make 
their  appearance  in  that  nice  performance  —  the  reception  of  a 
guest  for  the  first  time  —  which  so  eminently  calls  for  a  pleasing 
and  prompt  gracefulness,  without  which  reception  is  more  prop 
erly  repulsion,  and  an  invitation  to  make  oneself  at  home,  looks 
very  like  a  suggestion  to  depart.  Jones  seemed  to  conjecture 
what  was  passing  in  Horsey's  mind,  and  took  an  opportunity,  a 
few  minutes  after,  to  say  to  him,  in  a  whisper,  that  the  giants 
were  yet  to  arrive  —  these  were  the  pasteboard  personages  — 
that  class  of  creatures  which  we  use  from  necessity,  and  keep 
out  of  sight  when  we  can. 

"  But  they  will  improve,  Mr.  Horsey,  under  your  tuition 
—  under  your  example  I  mean.  They  have  had  no  opportuni 
ties —  have  seen  no  shining  lights,  and  are  shy,  sir,  very  shy  — 
much  can  not  be  expected  from  them  as  yet;  but  when  you 
have  given  us  some  readings,  Mr.  Horsey  —  then,  &c." 

It  was  not  surprising  after  this  appeal,  that  our  vain  actor 
beheld  his  companions  with  a  look  of  greater  indulgence  and 
more  charitable  thoughts.  The  wily  Jones  knew  all  his 
poundings,  and  the  tragedian  was  little  more  than  a  puppet  in 
his  hands. 

Meanwhile,  new  fires  were  built,  new  combinations  formed, 
and  Horsey  found  himself  as  busy  about  the  blaze  as  the  rest, 
and,  though  with  a  less  intense  feeling  than  the  rest,  receiving 
his  cards,  and  "  planking"  his  shillings.  His  friend  Jones  sat 
beside  him  and  assisted  him  as  a  partner  to  lose  his  money  in 
the  game.  As  the  •'  stakes"  disappeared,  the  good  humor  of 
the  group  seemed  to  increase,  and  the  contagious  mirth  soon 
made  Horsey  as  indulgent  in  his  criticism  as  unmindful  of  his 
losses.  He  thought  the  scamps  susceptible  of  improvement. 


RAW   RECRUITS-- AN    AWKWARb    SQUAD.  £25 

and,  stimulated  by  the  suggestions  and  applauses  of  Jones,  Ins 
quotations  became  recitations ;  and  his  own  language  was  at 
length  limited  to  a  few  occasional  comments  which  served  to 
introduce  and  link  together  the  choicest  declamatory  passages 
of  Shakspere.  The  Toms,  Dicks,  and  Harries,  around  him 
looked  as  grave  and  seemed  as  attentive  as  possible ;  but  it 
might  have  been  perceived  by  one  more  watchful  than  our  am 
ateur,  that  none  of  them  forgot  the  game  in  the  delight  which 
ho  felt  or  affected  to  feel,  and  the  stakes  were  always  lifted  as 
soon  as  won.  They  were  men"  who  had  long  since  learned  to 
combine  the  severest  cares  of  business  with  the  utmost  relaxa 
tions  of  pleasure. 

"  That  was  superbly  said,  Mr.  Horsey,"  remarked  the  attentive 
and  respectful  Jones,  as  the  actor  concluded  the  fame  as  soliloquy 
in  Hamlet,  "to  be,"  &c.,  "I  can  say  with  confidence  that  I  have 
never  heard  that  passage  delivered  before  —  never  — though  I 
have  heard  it  a  hundred  times  from  other  lips.  You  make  us  feel 
the  poet,  sir,  and  tremble  at  the  philosophy.  Ah,  sir,  how  these 
reflections  come  to  us,  poor  outcasts  of  fortune,  like  so  many  dread 
ful  experiences.  Who  has  not  asked  himself  whether  it  was  not 
better  and  nobler  to  make  his  own  quietus  with  a  bare  bodkin, 
than  to  suffer  the  thousand  cruel  and  crushing  evils,  such  as  the 
rest  of  the  passage  has  described  ?  Not  that  it  is  all  evil,  Mr. 
Horsey.  I  am  disposed  to  think,  so  far  as  my  experience  goes,  that 
that  part  of  it  about  'the  law's  delay'  might  very  well  be  left  out. 
The  law's  delay,  sir,  is  one  of  the  most  agreeable  features  which 
the  law  ever  shows  to  a  poor  debtor  like  myself,  and  as  I  have 
said  before,  but  for  the  law's  delay,  and  that  of  the  deputy, 
many's  the  poor  devil  who  would  have  lain  at  the  mercy  of 
tailor  and  tapster,  without  hope  or  redress,  to  the  detriment  of 
his  genius,  and  to  the  great  loss  of  the  majority  of  mankind. 
I'm  thinking,  Mr.  Horsey,  that  that  half  line  might  very  Avell 
be  left  out  of  the  passage." 

"  Impossible,  Mr.  Jones  —  there  would  be  an  ugly  hiatus-- 
the  music  of  the  line  would  be  lost  —  utterly  lost." 

"But  the  passage  might  be  altered  —  something  might  be 
supplied  in  its  place.  Supposing  we  were  to  read  'the  play's 
delay'  —  now  that  would  be  such  an  improvement  as  would  be 
grateful  to  every  ambitious  actor." 


326  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

This  suggestion  grated  on  the  pars  of  our  amateur.  He  was 
one  of  those  profound  devotees  of  the  great  literary  outlaw,  who 
venerates  his  very  faults,  even  as  the  antiquarian  treasure  up 
the  rust  and  canker  of  the  relic.  To  remove  anything,  in  liiy 
eyes,  would  be  to  impair  the  value  and  take  from  the  propriety 
of  what  remained ;  and  his  reply  was  uttered  in  tones  more  en 
ergetic  than  he  had  hitherto  employed. 

"  Sacrilege  !  sacrilege,  Mr.  Jones  —  how  can  you  think  of  it ! 
No,  sir,  the  passage  must  stand  as  it  is  —  neither  too  little  nor 
too  much  —  nothing  can  be  added,  nothing  taken  away.  It's 
true,  as  you  say,  the  law's  delay  is  a  very  agreeable  thing  to 
the  debtor.  Gad,  sir,  I  have  been  indebted  to  it  quite  as  often 
as  yourself;  but  our  notions  would  be  greatly  altered  if  MC 
stood  in  the  creditor's  shoes  ;  we  should  then  hold  the  passage  to 
be  perfect  as  it  is ;  as,  indeed,  I  hold  it  now,  having  no  debtors, 
and  being  still  over  shoes  on  the  books  of  other  men.  No,  no  ! 
sir  —  no  liberties  with  Shakspere  —  remember  the  admirable 
counsel  to  this  effect  which  he  gives  to  our  profession  in  partic 
ular  on  this  very  head  —  to  'speak  no  more  than  is  set  down  for 
them'  —  I  can  forgive  a  fellow  when  he  is  out  and  the  audience 
waiting,  and  the  prompter  asleep,  if  he  fills  out  from  his  own 
head ;  but  when  he  does  it  out  of  presumption,  seeking  to  im- 
prcve  the  work  of  the  mighty  master,  'that's  villanous,  and 
shows  a  most  pitiful  ambition  in  the  fool'  that  does  it." 

"  I  don't  know  but  you're  right,  sir." 

"  I  am  !  I  am  right,  Mr.  Jones  —  I  am  positive  in  this  matter. 
The  more  you  think  of  it,  sir,  the  more  you'll  have  occasion  to 
agree  with  me;  and  in  the  beginning  of  our  campaign,  sir,  the 
thing  can  not  be  too  much  insisted  upon  for  the  benefit  of  the 
whole  company." 

"  I  was  thinking,  sir,"  said  Jones,  with  some  hesitation  of 
manner,  and  a  bow  and  look  of  particular  deference  aliiM  st 
amounting  to  veneration,  "I  was  thinking,  sir,  that  it  might  l-o 
of  great  service  to  our  boys  if  you'd  be  so  good  as  to  give  r> 
your  reading  of  that  very  part." 

"  What !  the  advice  to  the  players  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I'm  sure  there's  not  one  present  that  would  not 
be  delighted  to  hear  it  from  your  lips.  What  say  you,  boys  — 
what  Ricks,  Mason,  Baker,  Bui1, ?' 


RAW    RECRUITS—    AS    AWKWARD    SQUAD.  327 

"Ay,  ay  !  let's  have  it!"  was  the  lively  cry  from  all,  in  tones 
far  less  full  of  solicitous  deference,  and  a  great  deal  more  indif 
ferent  than  those  of  Jones.  Meanwhile,  however,  the  cards 
were  shuffled,  the  stakes  set  down  and  lifted,  and  the  game  un 
derwent  no  cessation,  though,  in  the  excitement  of  his  declama 
tion,  our  friend  Horsey's  cards  remained  upon  the  turf,  from 
which,  however,  his  stakes  were  always  considerately  with 
drawn  by  the  banker,  as  soon  as  laid  before  him. 

"  But  it  will  interrupt  the  game,"  was  the  considerate  sugges 
tion  of  the  actor.  "  Our  friends  would  rather  play  than  listen 
to  those  dull  recitations,  of  which  they  hear  so  much  profession 
ally." 

"Devil  a  bit!"  was  the  warm  reply  of  Jones  to  the  modest 
apprehension  of  Horsey.  "  Devil  a  bit !  Dull  recitations,  in 
deed  !  By !  such  luxuries  are  more  than  they  are  used  to 

—  more,  perhaps,  than  they  deserve.  Put  up  your  hands,  men, 
while  Mr.  Horsey  gives  us  these  passages  ;  down  with  your  pic 
tures,  take  up  your  picayunes,  and  let  us  surrender  our  souls  for 
a  while  to  the  scene.  By  the  way,  Mr.  Horsey,  if  you  have  no 
objection,  the  thing  might  be  made  more  complete  —  the  illusion 
rendered  more  striking  and  fascinating  —  in  short,  sir,  if  you 
would  consent — " 

He  paused  and  looked  in  the  actor's  face  with  doubt  and  en 
treaty,  equally  mingled  with  respectful  deference; — but  he 
spoke  not. 

"What,  Mr.  Jones?"  was  the  demand  of  Horsey,  who  was  at 
that  moment  too  well  pleased  to  have  refused  the  speaker  any 
thing  in  his  power  to  bestow,  and  who  felt  assured,  from  the 
manner  of  Jones,  that  he  was  only  about  to  solicit  some  further 
extension  of  that  courtesy,  the  concession  of  which  was,  per 
haps,  far  more  gratifying  to  him  than  it  could  be  to  the  hearers. 
The  reply  of  Jones  was  uttered  in  the  hesitating  accents  of  one 
who  still  scrupled  to  give  offence. 

"If  I  remember  —  I  think,  Mr.  Horsey  —  nay,  you  did  tell 
me,  that  you  had  brought  with  you  a  portion  of  your  ward 
robe." 

"You  are  right,  sir  —  I  have  with  me  a  Hamlet  and  a  Romeo, 
«  Bolla,  a  Turk,  and  two  field-officers,  in  my  bags,  but — " 

"The  very  thing,  my  dear  sir  !"  cried  Jones,  with  an  air  of 


328  BORDER  BEAGLES. 

inexpressible  delight;  "and  now,  sir,"  lie  continued,  "  if  you 
would  only  crown  your  favors  and  give  us  your  readings  in  cos 
tume — give  us  the  favorite  passages  in  Hamlet,  which,  I  should 
think,  from  what  you  have  suffered  us  to  see,  your  best  perform 
nnce,  you  would  bind  us  to  you  eternally.  It  would  make  us 
so  happy  —  it  would  help  us  so  greatly  —  we  should  all  be  so 
much  pleased,  not  to  speak  of  the  immense  benefit  —  that  — 
that—" 

Here  the  cunning  dog  stopped  very  judiciously,  leaving  un 
expressed  the  superb  climax  which  the  imagination  of  the 
hearer  was  better  able  to  provide,  than  the  flattery  of  the  eulo 
gist.  Soothed,  seduced,  perfectly  overcome,  in  the  weakness 
of  his  heart,  by  the  adroit  management  of  the  wily  Jones,  the 
reluctance  of  the  actor  was  very  feeble.  He  said  something 
about  Ms  horse  and  saddle-bags  not  having  come,  and  murmured 
a  fear  that  he  might  be  tiresome.  But  these  objections  were 
soon  met  and  overruled  by  the  other. 

"  Your  horse  is  here  in  our  stables.  The  bags  you  can  get  at 
in  a  moment;  and  if  you  will  go  with  me,  we  can  put  you  at 
once  into  a  chamber  where  you  can  make  all  your  changes  with 
out  disturbance." 

There  was  no  resisting  the  pleasant  importunities  of  his  com 
panion;  and,  following  his  guidance,  Horsey  was  led  through  a 
contiguous  thicket  into  another  smaller  area,  where  he  found 
several  huts  of  bushes  and  bark,  in  one  of  which  his  horse  was 
fastened,  along  with  that  of  Jones;  while  the  fellow  who  had 
taken  charge  of  them- lay  fast  asleep  before  the  door,  using  the 
saddle-bags  of  the  actor  for  his  pillow.  He  was  soon  aroused, 
and  made  to  carry  them  into  another  of  the  huts,  where  Jones, 
having  studiously  repeated  his  flatteries,  left  the  delighted  actor 
to  prepare  his  toilet  prior  to  his  first  rehearsal  before  his  new 
companions. 

These,  meanwhile,  had  their  own  thoughts  on  the  subject  of 
the  new-comer. 

"  Now,  what  the  devil  can  Jones  be  after,"  was  the  muttered 
speech  of  one  surly  fellow  of  the  circle,  "  in  bringing  this  con 
ceited  ass  among  us  ?  He  seems  to  have  precious  little  money, 
and  he's  not  worth  robbing;  he's  a  fool  and  can't  be  trusted  ; 
and  why  we  are  to  pretend  to  be  actors,  and  all  that  nonsense. 


RAW    RECRUITS — AN    AWKWARD   SQUAD.  329 

and  listen  to  his  stuff,  is  more  than  I  can  reckon  up  at  a  single 
tuning.  What  do  you  say,  Baker  —  do  you  understand  it?" 

"No  better  than  yourself,  but  I  s'pose  there's  something  in 
it,  since  Jones  says  thai  he's  ordered  by  Saxon.  Saxon's  after 
some  strange  business,  I  reckon,  and  I  s'pose  he's  got  his  rea 
sons.  What  they  are,  I  don't  care  to  know,  so  long  as  the  fel 
low  has  a  Mexican  to  lose,  and  don't  know  when  he  loses." 

"Nor  when  he  wins,  for  that  matter,"  said  another.  "Bull 
gathered  up  his  stakes  and  winnings  together,  the  first  time  in 
his  life  that  ever  his  losses  filled  his  pockets." 

"The  fellow's  well  enough,"  said  Bull,  with  a  growling 
chuckle  — "  so  say  no  more.  I'm  for  his  playing  cards,  or  any 
thing  he  pleases,  so  long  as  the  playing  is  profitable  to  us. 
But  here's  Jones  coming  back ;  let  us  know  all  about  it  from 
him." 

"  How  now,  growlers?"  said  this  last-named  person,  as  he  re 
turned  among  the  group.  "  Can't  you  be  satisfied  with  your 
gettings,  when  they  come  with  so  little  trouble?  This  fellow's 
your  pigeon,  pluck  him  as  you  please;  but  look  you  that  he 
does  not  guess  what  you're  about.  Take  your  counsel  from  me, 
and  humor  him  awhile  —  it  will  give  us  quite  as  much  sport  as 
profit." 

"But  what's  the  upshot  of  the  business  —  are  we  to  stop  his 
wind,  or  is  he  to  be  one  of  the  family  ?  He'll  never  make  a 
beagle,  so  long  as  his  head's  full  of  play-stuff." 

"  Let  that  give  you  no  trouble.  It's  enough  that  Saxon  plans 
it.  This  fellow's  nothing  in  himself,  but  we  use  him  against 
another.  There's  one  thing,  let  me  tell  you,  before  you  go  fur 
ther.  Weston  is  dead  —  shot  through  the  head  by  a  young  law 
yer  going  up  to  Lucchesa,  on  t'other  side  of  the  river  by  Big 
Ben's.  There's  a  start  below  against  us;  and  the  old  method- 
ist,  Badger,  is  beginning  to  growl  aloud.  So,  lie  close  —  there's 
no  fear  of  the  dad,  while  the  son  is  a  beagle.  He'll  give  tongue 
enough  when  the  hunt's  a-foot.  As  for  this  chap,  all  that  you 
have  to  do  is  to  wink,  look  wise,  talk  what  player  nonsense  you 
ean,  and  praise  him  for  his  acting,  whenever  he  asks  questions 
khat  you  can't  answer.  That  will  stop  his  tongue,  and  turn  his 
thoughts,  and  that's  all  that  you've  to  do.  I'll  manage  all  the 
rest  of  the  business.  Put  up  your  cards  now,  and  get  the  grog 


330  BORDER    BEACLKR. 

in  readiness,  ami  lot  Girhan  get  <»ur  supper,  while  I'm  gone  foi 
the  actor.  You'll  see  him  in  Ins  glory  when  lie  comes  hark, 
but  no  grinning  —  nothing  to  frighten  him.  Hear  linn  with 
open  mouths,  and  if  you  can  throw  in  a  bit  of  blarney,  let  it  be 
clone.  But  do  it  neatly  —  nothing  slippery  —  nothing  stupid. 
The  fellow's  no  fool  when  he  ain't  flattered  —  it's  soft  soap  only 
that  turns  his  head.  Enough  —  you  have  the  trail." 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

SWAMP      THEATRICALS NO      FUN      IN      TRAGEDY A      BULLDOG 

AMONG      THE     BEAGLES  —  THE      STAR      L'.VDKK      A     CLOUD  — 
STRIFE    IN    THE    SIGN    OF    TAURUS. 

Serv.   My  lord,  you  no<l  ;   von  do  not  mind  the  play. 

Sly.  Yes,  by  Snint.  Anne,  I  do.  A  good  matter,  surely.  Comes  there 
any  more  of  itf — Taming  of  the  Shrew. 

WHEN  Jones  returned  to  his  comrades,  accompanied  by 
Horsey  in  character,  the  scene  had  undergone  a  change.  The 
cards  hafl  disappeared  —  fires  were  lighted  anew  —  a  rude  plank 
table,  wirh  rude  block  seats,  had  risen  in  the  midst,  garnished 
with  sundry  black  bottles  of  strong  waters,  and  everything 
looked  fair  for  a  promising  carouse.  The  men,  too,  had  under 
gone  some  little  change.  The  exhortations  of  Jones  had  not 
been  lost  upon  them,  and,  taking  it  for  granted  that  their  ac 
count  lay,  as  it  had  always  done  before,  in  securing  the  desires 
of  their  leaders,  they  were  prepared  to  yield  themselves,  heart 
and  hand,  to  the  game  that  was  before  them.  A  warm  cheer, 
thrice  renewed,  received  the  actor,  who  stalked  before  them  in 
all  the  mournful  and  philosophical  dignity  of  the  youthful  Dar.o. 
A  buzz,  a  murmur  of  approbation,  followed  this  outbreak,  and. 
whether  sincere  or  affected,  the  result  was  everything  thnt 
might  be  desired.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  Horsey  fou--..! 
himself  in  the  presence  of  actors  who  were  not  rivals  —  candi 
dates  for  popular  favor,  who  had  no  jealousy  of  their  neighbors 
—  and  professors  of  an  art  that  lives  on  popular  applause,  who 
were  yet  no  less  prompt  in  bestowing  it.  Our  traveller  was  the 


SWAMP   THEATRICALS.  331 

last  man  i£  the  world  to  mortify  himself  with  any  unnecessary 
doubts  of  that  sincerity  which  spoke  in  the  language  of  enco 
mium.  And  yet,  to  do  his  understanding  all  justice,  it  must  be 
added  that  Jones  took  infinite  pains  to  avoid  arousing  his  sus 
picions.  His  own  applauses  were  all  well-timed,  judiciously 
expressed,  and  had  the  appearance  of  being  urged  with  great 
hesitation  and  forbearance.  A  respectful  deference  distin 
guished  even  his  solicitude ;  and  his  chief  argument  to  Horsey, 
and  one  which  he  had  insisted  on  in  frequent  whispers,  was  the 
necessity  of  a  good  model  for  his  wretched  creatures. 

"  These  fellows  have  never  played  before,  my  dear  Mr.  Hor 
sey.  They  have  been  picked  up  from  all  parts  of  the  country. 
Some  of  them  have  never  even  looked  upon  a  play,  and  none  of 
them  have  any  just  idea  of  what  a  performance  should  be.  I 
know  the  trouble  it  will  give  you  to  tutor  them,  but  it  is  so  im 
portant  that  we  should  make  a  good  figure  at  first,  and  if,  as  I 
believe,  you  regard  the  drama  as  so  important  to  the  civiliza 
tion  of  the  people  —  to  the  improvement  of  popular  taste,  and 
—  and—" 

All  this  kind  of  stuff  was  very  convincing  to  our  stage-struck 
hero.  His  eye  brightened  while  he  looked  around  him,  and  sur 
veyed  the  mute  watchfulness  and  vague  curiosity  of  stare  that 
met  his  glance  on  every  side. 

"  Something  can  be  made  of  them,  Jones,"  he  said  paternally, 
in  a  confidential  whisper,  "  and,  considering  the  great  impor 
tance  of  the  thing,  I  am  not  unwilling  to  undertake  their  tui 
tion.  You  are  right  in  regarding  it  as  all-important  that  they 
should  know  something  before  they  begin ;  though,  really,  it  is 
surprising — very  surprising  —  that  they  should  have  ever  thought 
of  the  stage.  It  seems  to  me  that  any  other  vocation — " 

The  comment  was  answered  by  a  conclusive  Avhisper. 

"  Beggars,  you  know,  Mr.  Horsey,  can  not  be  choosers.  We 
must  make  the  most  of  them  till  a  better  bargain  offers,  and  then 
I'm  clear  that  we  get  rid  of  them.  On  this  head  we  must  con 
fer  together  hereafter.  We  must  take  the  management  into 
our  own  hands,  since  Tilton's  off,  and  there's  no  knowing  wher* 
to  set  hands  on  Peters.  It  is  a  happy  chance  that  sent  you  IP 
our  neighborhood.  I  was  beginning  to  think  matters  desperate 
and  had  almost  given  up  in  despair,  and  gone  off.  Now,  the'^V 


332  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

no  danger.  You  will  set  us  on  our  feet  again.  But  ijiere's  time 
enough  to  talk  of  this  hereafter.  Now,  the  lads  are  waiting 
Gentlemen,  Mr.  Horsey  is  ready  —  pray  give  your  attention." 

"  Ay,  ay,"  exclaimed  the  surly  fellow,  Bull,  "  and  so  are  we 
We've  been  ready  this  half-hour  to  hear  him  ;  but,  Jones,  s'pose% 
if  it's  not  disagreeable  to  Mr.  Horsey,  let's  take  a  swig  all  round 
to  better  acquaintance.  It  sort-o'  makes  a  body  easy  to  lister, 
when  the  liquor's  afloat;  and  sort-o'  softens  the  ear  and  opcii« 
the  understanding.  I  always  feels  a  great  deal  easier  to  judge, 
when  I'm  in  sperrits." 

"Vulgar  fellow  !"  mutterod  Horsey  to  himself,  annoyed  at  an 
interruption  at  the  very  moment  when,  throwing  himself  into 
posture,  he  was  about  to  begin.  He  concealed  his  chagrin  as 
well  as  he  could,  while  the  vigilant  Jones,  calling  to  order,  en 
deavored  to  keep  down  the  moral  scum  winch  promised  to  riso 
up  with  quite  as  much  pertinacity  as  ever,  with  the  very  next 
agitation  of  the  atmosphere. 

"  A  good  idea  of  Bull's,  that,  Mr.  Horsey,"  said  the  politician. 
"  A  glass  to  better  acquaintance  is  not  amiss ;  though  I'm  not 
so  sure  it  makes  one  judge  the  better  in  intellectual  matters  and 
things  of  art.  What  have  you  there,  gentlemen  ?" 

"  Monongahela,  fresh  from  Beattie's  Bluff,"  was  the  reply  of 
Bull.  "  There's  a  piggin  of  peach  in  the  bushes,  the  last  of  the 
barrel — ^r^haps,  the  gentleman  will  take  his  pull  from  that  ?" 

"  JVehaps  !  Take  his  pull!"  Horsey  could  scarce  suppress 
his  astonishment,  and  forbear  repeating  the  offensive  vulgarities 
aloud. 

"Our  Jack  Pudding!  —  our  fellow  for  broad  grin  and  buf 
foonery  !"  whispered  Jones  in  the  ear  of  the  amateur.  "  A 
very  comical  fellow  when  he's  in  the  humor,  Mr.  Horsey  — 
never  saw  so  comical  a  dog  as  he  can  make  himself.  All  this 
is  put  on  —  it's  in  character  only.  He  is  only  disposed  to  let 
you  see  that  there  are  other  actors  beside  yourself." 

•  Indeed  !  Is  that  it  ?  But  he  looks  very  serious  for  a  funny 
fellow." 

"That's  the  beauty  of  it,  sir — that's  the  wonder  —  that's 
what  makes  him  inimitable  in  his  way.  You'll  hear  liiirt  speak 
the  dialect  of  the  most  ignorant  backwoodsman,  as  if  he  was 
born  to  it  and  look  for  all  the  world  as  if  he  never  could  hav« 


SWAMP   THEATRICALS.  333 

spoken  any  other.  But,  I  can,  tell  you,  so  far  from  that  being 
the  case,  he's  well  educated  —  speaks  Greek  like  a  native,  and 
is  profound  in  mathematics,  besides  having  an  excellent  taste 
in  poetry." 

"  Is  it  possible  !" 

"  True  as  Holy  Writ;  but  he  has  his  humors,  sir — and  one 
of  them  is  to  disparage  himself.  He  will  even  lie,  sir  —  lie  like 
a  Trojan  —  in  order  to  make  himself  little.  Ask  him  now  about 
Greek;  and  if  he  happens  to  be  in  the  humor  for  running  his 
cross-rigs  upon  you,  he'll  swear  he  knows  nothing  of  what  you 
say,  and  will  probably  answer  you  in  the  coarsest  lingo  of 
Catahoula  and  the  swamp." 

"  A  strange  perversity,  indeed." 

"It's  the  way  with  all  geniuses,  I  believe;  but  —  here  he 
comes.  Don't  mind  his  extravagances.  You'll  see  the  fun  of 
them,  now  that  you  know  something  of  the  fellow." 

By  this  time  Bull  returned,  bearing  in  his  hands  the  piggin 
of  peach-brandy,  for  which  he  had  gone  to  the  bushes  where  it 
had  been  concealed.  His  salutation  as  he  placed  the  vessel  on 
the  table,  was  calculated  to  justify  in  some  sort  the  description 
which  had  been  just  given  of  his  eccentricities. 

"Here,  you  b—  lies,"  he  cried  aloud — "here's  stuff  enough, 
and  sorts  enough,  if  your  stomach's  not  too  swingy  proud  for 
an  honest  liquor.  This  peach  is  a  beauty,  and  the  whiskey's 
as  lovely  as  a  sinner  alongside  of  it.  If  you  don't  like  one,  take 
the  other,  and  if  you  don't  like  neither,  mix'em  and  swig  both, 
and  see  which  end'll  come  uppermost.  Blast  my  buttons  — 
what  do  you  wait  for,  you — " 

We  omit  the  more  decided  expressions  of  blackguardism. 

"  You  see,"  whispered  Jones  to  the  actor,  "  he's  as  full  of 
Aristophanes  as  an  egg's  full  of  meat.  Fond  of  all  the  old 
comic  writers,  and  don't  stand  at  calling  things  by  plain  names. 
You'll  know  more  of  him  directly." 

Horsey  drew  a  long  breath  as  he  replied — 

"  'Gad  !  he  is  the  strangest  fellow — " 

His  speech  and  woi  il«r  were  briefly  cut  short  by  the  upr-ari- 
ous  challenge  of  the  eccentric  Bull,  who,  having  filled  a  tin 
mug  of  more  than  usual  dimensions  with  one  of  the  two  potent 
beverages  so  highly  eulogized,  extended  his  gracious  permission. 


iiOUDKil    UKA(JLi-:.S. 

after  a  fashion  of  liis  own,  to  all  others  who  might  be  disposed 
to  follow  his  example. 

"I'm  a  man  that  has  a  notion  that  all  sperrits  loses  that 
stands  too  long  open  to  the  air.  You  must  pour  it  down  or  cork 
it  up,  one  or  t'other,  and  so,  fellows,  I  drinks  to  you,  and  my 
sentiments  is — here's  to  the  tongue  that  never  sticks  in  the 
way  of  the  swallow  —  meaning  no  harm  to  them  that  stands  off 
talking,  when  they  might  be  doing  a  better  business." 

And  with  these  words,  and  a  scornful  leer  at  the  actor  and 
his  companion  Jones,  the  Grecian  humorist,  turned  the  bottom 
of  the  can  to  the  north  star,  while  the  mouth  of  it  clung  for  an 
Instant  to  his  own  with  a  sympathetic  tenacity. 

"  Well  said  !  Well  hit !"  exclaimed  the  ready  Jones,  with  a 
wink,  to  Horsey.  "  We  certainly  deserve  the  censure  of  all 
good  spirits,  when  we  leave  such  good  spirits  untasted.  Hor 
sey,  my  dear  fellow,  shall  I  pour  you  out  from  the  jug  or  the 
piggin  ?  I  can  answer  for  this  peach  —  it's  as  good  as  any  of 
Crumbaugh's." 

"  The  peach,  I  thank  you,"  was  the  answer  of  Horsey,  in 
somewhat  subdued  accents.  The  fact  is,  his  genius  was  con 
founded  in  the  presence  of  that  of  Mr.  Aristophanes  Bull,  of 
whom,  as  yet,  he  could  not  exactly  succeed  in  reconciling  what 
he  saw  with  what  he  heard.  A  little  time  after,  and  he  grew 
more  flexible ;  but  let  us  not  anticipate.  His  glass  was  filled, 
and  with  the  kindest  condescension  in  the  world,  he  bowed  to 
the  company  ere  he  drank,  and  uttered  some  commonplace 
compliment,  which  was  lost,  like  many  better  wishes,  in  the  un 
heeding  air. 

"And  now,  gentlemen,  give  attention — now  for  the  part  of 
Hamlet  by  Mr.  Horsey,  of  whom  you  all  have  heard,  and  by 
whose  counsel  and  example,  I  trust  we  shall  all  improve.  Mr. 
Horsey,  perhaps  that  part  about  actors  and  acting — I  mean  the 
advice  to  the  players  —  might  be  the  best  to  begin  with;  un 
less,  indeed,  you  should  prefer  to  give  us  some  more  tragic  parts. 
I  know  that  your  forte  lies  in  tragedy." 

Such  was  the  conciliatory  preludium  of  the  adroit  Jones,  and 
its  effect  promised  to  be  exceedingly  happy  upon  the  person  to 
whom  it  was  addressed.  A  smile  rose  upon  his  lips,  his  eyes 
sparkled,  as  he  felt  the  convincing  deference  of  the  speaker, 


XO   FUH   IN   TilAGEDY.  335 

and  a  ray  of  self -complaisance,  such  as  the  sun  sheds  over  the  western 
heavens,  after  he  has  done  a  good  day's  work  of  illumination,  gave  to 
our  actor's  face  an  inexpressible  benignity  of  beam,  which  was  most 
unhappily  overcast,  in  another  instant,  by  the  intrusive  comments  of 
the  eccentric  genius,  Bull . 

"Tragedy  be  d d,"  said  he,  striking  his  hand  down  upon 

the  table,  to  which,  in  the  next  moment,  he  elevated  his  foot ; 

"tragedy  be  d d — that's  all  in  my  eye  and  Betty  Martin. 

There's  no  fun  in  that,  no  more  than  in  thunder  and  hoxy-doxy. 
Who  want's  to  see  a  fellow  get  up  and  blow  out  his  cheeks,  and  roll 
up  his  eyes,  and  growl  and  roar  and  choke,  and  shake  all  over  as  if 
he  had  an  agy  ?  None  of  your  tragedy  for  me.  There's  no 
sense  in  it.  Tain't  raal.  I  was  once  down  in  Mobile  when 
I  saw  them  making  tragedies,  and,  darken  my  peepers,  but  the 
bloody  b — lies  made  me  mad  enough  to  swallow  'em,  they  were  so 
cussed  rediculous." 

"  But,  my  dear  Bull,"  was  the  beginning,  thrice  begun,  of  our 
friend  Jones,  in  the  endeavor  to  stop  the  torrent  of  the  humorist.  In 
vain — Bull  kept  his  ground  and  shook  off  the  intruder  with  as  much 
case  as  a  three-year-old  colt  would  shake  off  a  Connecticut  cavalry 
officer. 

"Oh,  be  d d,"  said  he,  "don't  I  know?  There  was  a 

tragedian  that  came  in  looking  after  his  enemy.  He  had  his 
sword  out,  and  he  made  a  show  as  if  he  was  mighty  angry,  but, 
between  you  and  me,  he  didn't  want  to  find  him,  no  how.  The 
other  fellow  was  hiding  behind  a  tree,  and  this  chap  looked  for 
him  everywhere  but  there.  So,  as  I  wanted  to  see  how  they'd 
fight,  I  up  and  told  him  where  to  look  for  him — says  I,  bung 
up  my  peepers  if  you  don't  find  him  agin  that  rock,  squat,  jist 
hiding  behind  that  tree.  It  was  a  scrub  oak,  or  something  like 
it — I  never  seed  sich  a  tree  before.  Well,  instead  of  thanking 
me,  he  dropped  his  jaws  and  his  sword,  looked  at  me  as  if  he'd 
seed  a  ghost,  mumbled  something  in  his  throat,  nobody  could 
tell  what,  and  then  there  was  a  spree  among  the  people,  and 
some  of  the  larks  below  cried  out  as  if  they  were  gwine  to  lick 

me.  'Lick  and  be  d d,' says  I,'  Mick  if  you  can.  Where's 

the  first  man  ? — let  me  look  on  him.'  So  up  I  stands,  and 
devil  the  bit  of  a  nigger  among  'em  to  say  another  word.  Well 
that  was  all  bloody  foolish.  If  the  chap  was  in  a'rnest,  it  was 


336  BORDER  BEAGLES. 

the  easiest  thing  to  find  the  other.  He  had  only  to  say  I'm 
ready,  clap  his  hips  and  crow  like  a  chicken,  and  if  they  was 
ser'ous,  what  more  ?  But  tragedies  ain't  ser'ous  things.  It's 
all  make-b'lieve.  They  know  there's  nobody  to  be  hurt, — no 
body's  in  a'rnest ;  for  they'll  stand  and  talk  for  a  long  quarter, 
though  the  enemy's  at  the  door,  with  bullet  and  bowie-knife; 
and  they  pretending  to  be  mighty  scared  all  the  time.  Then 
they  hide  where  its  so  easy  to  find  'em.  Grim !  only  let  a 
nigger  hide  from  me  in  Loosa-Chitta  as  them  fellows  hide  from  one 
another  in  tragedies,  and  how  soon  I'd  ride  through  his  rig'lets.  I'd 
be  into  'em,  and  on  'ern  ;  over  'em,  and  through  'em  ;  round  'em,  and 
about  'em  ;  front  'em,  and  a-back  'em  ;  in  the  twinkle  of  a  musquito 
— race  lightning  never  could  go  quicker.  No  !  no  !  None  of  your 
tragedies  for  me." 

"But,  Bull,  my  dear  fellow!"  expostulated  Jones,  with  some 
thing  more  of  anxiety  in  his  accents  and  manner,  as  he  saw  the 
almost  pallid  expression  of  discomfiture  in  the  blank  visage  of 
Horsey — "  why  should  you  go  on  so  ?  Though  you  don't  like 
tragedy,  that's  no  reason  why  other  people  should  not,  and  we  who 
labor  for  thejpublic,  or  propose  to  do  so,  must  do  that  which  will  best 
please  the  public.  Now  there's  no  doubt  that  most  people  prefer 
tradgedy — " 

"The  more  fools  they!"  stoutly  replied  the  obdurate  Bull, 
' '  They're  not  of  my  kidney,  then,  by  hocus  ;  and  I  recon  there's 
none  of  the  boys  here  that  wouldn't  prefer  a  sup  of  whiskey 
at  any  time,  and  a  frolic  at  Mother  Surgick's,  to  all  the  tragedy 
stuff." 

"But,  Bull,  my  dear  fellow — "  Jones  resumed  his  expostula 
tions,  but  in  vain.  Bull  had  been  supping  whiskey  for  a  good  hour 
before  Horsey  had  reached  the  camp,  and  had  grown  too  inflexible 
to  engage  with  readiness  in  any  scheme  so  intricate  as  the  one  pro 
posed. 

"Butt  Bull,"  he  retorted,  using  the  language  of  Jones,  with  a 
grin,  as  if  a  good  joke  lay  at  the  bottom — "  Butt  Bull,  and  get  the 
worst  of  it.  See  whose  head's  the  hardest,  you  b — h,  and  be  off  with 
your  mug  broken .  Its  a  bad  chance  to  butt  any  of  my  breed.  No, 
blast  my  buttons  !  hide  and  horns,  head  and  tail,  are  all  too  much  for 
such  as  you,  Jones  ;  so  no  rearing,  unless  you  want  to  come  down  on 
your  haunches." 


A   BULLDOG    AMONG   THE   BEAGLES.  337 

"A  wit,  you  see,"  said  Jones,  in  a  whisper  to  the  waiting 
Hamlet — "a  fellow  of  infinite  humor; — and  as  he's  a  little 
drunk  he  begins  to  show  it.  The  true  nature  always  comes  up 
permost  with  a  man  in  liquor.  A  fellow  of  contradictions  — 
we  must  bear  with  him  a  while  longer." 

There  was  little  or  no  consolation  in  all  this  for  the  actor. 
He  began  to  suspect  that  the  organization  of  such  an  unruly 
gang  would  task  the  best  manager  in  the  worst  fashion.  He 
saw  treason,  uproar,  and  utter  discomfiture  in  all  the  proceedings 
of  the  green-room.  But  he  said  nothing  in  reply  to  Jones,  and 
before  the  latter  could  say  more,  the  sarcastic  Bull  had  re 
sumed  the  subject  of  which  he  seemed  as  tenacious  as  the 
grave. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  "  if  you're  for  acting  at  all,  give  me  them 
funny  things,  where  they  make  all  sorts  of  faces,  and  play 
tricks,  and  tumble  one  another  about,  and  jump  on  shoulders 
and  ride  like  monkeys,  and  run  up  the  chimney,  and  hide  be 
hind  the  door.  Give  me  the  comedies  and  farces,  and  them 
sort  of  things  that  make  a  fellow  laugh  to  split.  I'm  for  the 
frolicking  plays,  and  I  reckon  we're  all  for  them.  Ain't  you, 
Baker?" 

''  Ay,  deuce  take  me,  if  I  don't  vote  with  Bull,"  was  the 
response  of  Mr.  Baker. 

"And  I  too,"  said  another. 

"  And  I,"  said  a  third. 

And  the  majority  sent  up  an  assenting  voice  which  put  a 
stop  for  an  instant  to  all  the  expostulations  of  the  indefatigable 
Jones.  Bull  looked  round  him  with  an  air  of  triumph  and  com 
placency,  as  much  as  to  say,  —  there,  you  have  our  decision,  so 
let  your  tragedy  be  comedy  —  your  fate,  fun  !  He  filled  up 
his  can,  as  the  difficult  question  was  thus  determined  to  his  own 
satisfaction ;  and,  as  if  to  reconcile  the  minority  to  a  decision 
which  is  always  disagreeable  to  a  minority,  he  proposed  a  bum 
per  all  round. 

"  Come  Jones,  come  Doughty,"  so  he  named  Horsey,  "  my 
dogs,  we'll  begin  the  fun  by  a  full  swallow.  I'm  always  for  a 
frolic  when  there's  good  stuff  to  go  upon ;  and  a  comedy,  says 
I,  because  a  comedy's  always  ser'ous  a'rnest,  and  it's  all  my 
when  they  makes  tragedies.  Tragedies  is  mighty  foolish 


BUilDEK 


f  and  ridiculous  tilings.  They  ain't  ser'ous.  The  killing  am  t 
ger'ous.  I  don't  reckon  a  man  was  ever  yet  killed  in  a  tragedy. 
Now,  I'm  for  killing  in  a'rnest  when  1  set  about  it.  I  don't 
leave  off  when  I  begin,  and  if  I  once  put  knife  into  a  fellow't 
ribs  to  make  small  meat  of  him,  wouldn't  I  be  a  blasted  fool  to 
go  off,  before  I  made  sure  that  the  thing  was  done  in  ri-ht 
a'rnest.  ?  I'd  git  on  him  astraddle  arid  feel  at  his  kidneys ;  Tnd 
if  there  was  only  the  littlest  shaking  of  the  flesh,  d— me  but 
I'd  give  him  another  dig  or  two  to  make  sure  and  put  him  out 
^of  his  misery.  I  would,  d — me." 

There  was  something  exceedingly  literal  in  the  latter  part  of 
Bull's  speech,  which  our  friend  Horsey  found  it  v-ry  difficult  to 
account  for.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the  witty  felkx  was  con 
founding  real  events  with  theatrical  illusion  ;  and  the  idea  of 
his  bestraddling  his  slain  opponent,  and  giving  him  a  thrust 
extra  seemed  rather  Choctaw-like  and  savage.  Besides,  he 
could  not  understand  how  such  a  proceeding  should  ever  be 
tolerated  by  an  audience.  On  this  head  he  thought  it  important 
to  express  his  doubts.  This  he  did,  however,  with  less  than  his 
usual  fecund  flow  of  language,  and  with  a  hesitancy  of  rnannei 
which  showed  how  greatly  the  eccentric  genius  of  Bull  had 
cowed  himself,  no  less  than  the  rest  of  his  companions. 

"  I  am  afraid,  Mr.  Bull,  the  spectators  would  not  permit  such 
an  unnecessary  proceeding.  The  moment  the  man  lies,  appa 
rently  dead,  the  end  of  the  performance  is  obtained.  There  IH 
surely  no  sort  of  necessity  to  repeat  the  blow ;  and  I  am  afraid 
that  the  dignity  of  tragedy  would  be  utterly  overthrown  by  be 
straddling  the  slain  man.  I  am  also  disposed  to  think "" 

"  Look  you,  Doughty,  my  boy,"  cried  Bull,  with  an  air  oi 
most  paternal  superiority,  clapping  his  open  hand  as  he  spoke 
over  the  mouth  of  the  tragedian  —  "  you're  but  a  young  hand 
at  the  hatchet,  I  see.  Do  you  think,"  with  an  air  of  greal 
seeming  circumspection,  as  he  bent  his  mouth  to  the  ear  of  the 
hearer,  and  spoke  in  a  half-whisper— "  you  talk  of  spectators, 
but  do  you  think  I'd  be  such  a  blasted  b-— h  of  a  fool  as  to  let 
anybody  see  me  at  the  business  ?" 

"  How  !  how  !  the  audience  not  see  you  ?" 
The  actor   was  bewildered.      Jones,   with   some   consterna 
tion  interposed.     The   game  at   cross-purposes,  which  he  ha£ 


1HE   blAit    UADl.it    A    CLuUl;.  </>U 

so  cunningly  introduced,  was  on  the  verge  of  a  sudden  termi 
nation. 

"Ha,  ha!  A  good  joke  —  an  excellent  joke  !"  he  exclaimed 
aloud,  laughing  immoderately  as  he  spoke  —  "Bull,  you're  a 
born  devil  of  a  joker.  He's  trying  to  quiz  you,  Mr.  Horsey  — 
I  warned  you  how  'twould  be  —  a  very  Momus,  sir  —  all  fun, 
all  mirth,  all  deviltry." 

"Quiz  me!"  exclaimed  the  actor,  with  a  genuine  expression 
of  tragedy  —  a  sublime  indignation  —  in  his  countenance  as  he 
spoke,  which,  in  an  instant  after,  changed  to  one  of  haughty  de 
fiance,  as  his  eyes  turned  from  Jones  to  the  person  of  him  to 
whom  had  been  ascribed  the  impertinent  effort  which  promised 
to  be  so  offensive. 

"  Nay,  take  no  offence,  Mr.  Horsey,  don't  you  see  the  man's 
drunk,"  said  Jones,  in  a  whisper.  "  But  I'll  mend  his  manners 
—  I'll  lead  him  off  for  a  while,  and  coo^l  him.  I'll  say  that 
which  will  bring  him  to  his  senses." 

"Tell  him  you'll  discharge  him!"  said  Horsey,  with  all  the 
terrors  of  a  managerial  countenance,  as  he  whispered  this  severe 
counsel  in  the  ears  of  the  other.  "  By  the  body  of  Polonius,  it 
would  be  impossible  to  keep  such  a  fellow  in  order — all  his 
merits,  were  they  twice  what  they  are,  could  never  reconcile 
me  to  tolerate  such  presumption." 

"  You  are  right,  perfectly  right,  sir,  and  I'll  make  him  hear 
to  reason,"  said  Jones  —  "meanwhile,  sir,  when  I  take  him  off, 
do  you  occupy  the  rest.  They  are  very  anxious  to  hear  you  — 
very  good  fellows,  sir — a  little  tainted  with  Bull  only.  They 
will  keep  order." 

While  this  brief  dialogue  proceeded  between  the  two  in  whis 
pers,  the  eccentric  Bull  had  glided,  by  a  very  natural  transition, 
from  the  proscenium  into  the  orchestra,  and  was  leading  off,  in 
a  dithyrambic,  famous  among  the  beagles  of  the  borders,  to  the 
air  of  the  "  Raccoon  skinned"  — a  melody  which  only  needs  the 
lyrical  genius  of  General  Morris,  who  quelled  the  rioters  of  New 
York  in  1834,  to  marry  to  universal  song,  and  embalm,  with 
other  "  refrains/'  in  the  cedar  oil  of  immortality.  We  shall 
copy  it  out,  when  more  at  leisure,  for  the  special  benefit  of  that 
gentleman ;  at  present,  a  single  verse  must  suffice,  as  well  foi 
him,  as  for  our  amateur. 

/^o,  T?; 

((  UNIVERSITY    J 


840  BOEDER   BEAGLEE 

MBish  war  ben  it  dan  i    nee 

Blit  nel  de  mor  , 
So  ma  nol,  it  cal  a  f°, 

—  Chi,  cha,  ohf ,  chow, 
Tra  la  chin,  et  car  .t  lee, 

—  Chi,  cha,  cUo,  chow, 
Blit  nel  de  me:;" — etc. 

t 

"  Bull,  a  word  with  you,"  said  Jones,  abruptly,  as  the  up 

roarious  ditty  was  ended. 

"  Well,  out  with  it,  and  be  d d  to  you.  If  it's  only  one, 

the  pain's  soon  over." 

"  Come  with  me." 

"  Why  can't  you  out  with  it  here  1  D — n  my  sixes  !  There's 
no  use  to  get  up  while  one's  able,  and  there's  any  stuff  left.  See 
here." 

"  Let  it  rest !     It'll  wait  till  you  come  back." 

"  I  don't  know  that,"  retorted  the  humorist  —  "and  though  it 
might,  these  d d  fellows  won't  —  they  swallow  like  a  sand 
hill  after  a  long  drought  in  August.  I'm  almost  afraid  to  leave 
it.  If  I  go  now,  it's  like  parting  with  a  friend  for  ever." 

"Pshaw,  Bull  —  what  nonsense.  There's  business,  I  tell 
you." 

These  words,  coupled  with  a  particular  and  significant  move 
ment  of  the  hands  which  escaped  Horsey's  observation,  at  once 
had  an  effect  upon  the  person  addressed.  He  rose,  grumbling 
all  the  while,  and  followed  his  companion,  leaving  the  field  to 
our  actor,  who,  like  long-pent-up  torrents,  glad  of  the  moment 
of  liberation,  soon  burst  with  all  his  thunders  upon  the  remain 
ing  assembly,  and  strove  to  make  up  for  lost  time  by  redoubled 
efforts.  He  was  beginning  to  forget  his  previous  annoyances 
in  the  evident  attention  of  his  audience,  when  Jones  and  the 
refractory  Bull  reappeared. 

The  latter  was  somewhat  sullen,  but  he  remained  silent  for 
awhile,  contenting  himself  with  refilling  his  glass,  and  resuming 
his  seat  as  before.  He  stuck  his  legs  boldly  upon  the  table, 
crossed  his  arms  as  if  in  contemplation,  and,  not  deigning  a  glance 
at  our  actor,  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  heavens,  tracing  Bootes, 
Orontes,  and  the  rest,  with  a  face  of  particular  and  philosophi 
cal  speculation,  ami,  possibly,  discoursing  in  fancy  with  thai 


STRIFE   IV   THE   SIGN   OF   TAURUS.  *iJ 

venerable  old  gentleman  of  nursery  authority,  the  ancient  ;;i.;i 
ever  to  be  remembered  man  in  the  moon  —  his  dog  and  his  bush. 
Thus  he  sat  for  some  time  in  dogged  silence,  while  our  actor, 
who  needed  but  little  encouragement  to  rouse  every  echo  known 
to  the  tragic  muse,  having  already  gone  through  several  pas 
sages,  proceeded  to  Macbeth. 

The  soliloquy  in  the  dagger-scene,  being  one  upon  which 
every  witling  labors  to  expend  himself,  was  that  which  tasked 
all  his  powers;  and  whether  he  did  well  or  ill,  or  whether  it 
was  because  of  some  affinities  in  the  passage  which  came  home 
to  the  bosom  and  the  business  of  Bull,  it  is  certain  that  our  ac 
tor's  declamation  in  this  part  was  honored  with  a  greater  share 
of  his  attention  than  he  had  condescended  to  bestow  previously. 
This  did  not  escape  the  notice  of  Horsey  >  and  he  was  beginning 
to  congratulate  himself  that  the  eccentricities  of  the  genius  were, 
about  to  pass  away,  leaving  his  lights  their  accustomed  brilliance, 
when  the  grateful  anticipation  Avas  suddenly  defeated  by  the 
latter's  starting  to  his  feet,  and  thrusting  his  mug,  well  filled 
with  the  generous  potation,  full  in  the  face  of  the  actor,  exclaim 
ing,  while  he  did  so,  and  cutting  off  entirely  the  closing  lines  of 
the  part  — 

"  Oh,  d — n  it,  Thompson,  take  a  drink  and  shut  up.  This 
tragedy  stuff  is  too  dry  and  dull  —  let's  have  no  more  of  it. 
Here,  drink,  and  let  your  tongue  have  a  bit  of  a  holyday." 

The  indignant  actor  could  no  longer  restrain  himself.  His 
hand,  which  had  been  extended  to  grasp  the  imaginary  dagger, 
was  swept  round  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  and  the  next  mo 
ment  the  vessel  was  seen  flying  in  the  air,  liberally  bestowing 
its  contents  in  its  flight,  upon  the  face  and  bosom  of  the  circle, 
aniOEg  which  the  portion  of  Mr.  Bull  was  in  no  manner  stinted. 
This  proceeding  was  the  signal  for  an  uproar,  and  Bull's  hand 
was  already  laid  upon  the  collar  of  Macbeth,  whose  blood  was 
still  rising,  when  the  sudden  appearance  of  another  personage 
upon  the  scene,  produced  an  instantaneous  change  in  its  circum 
stances. 


BORDER   BEAULEfc. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

7HE  &IDDONS  OF   THE  SWAMP  —  PASSION  AND  CUNNING  AT  ODDS 

"Ay,  answer  that, 
The  questioner  hath  need  —  where  went  he  then  I" 

TJie  Royal  Fugitive. 

THE  effect  upon  the  group  of  the  sudden  appearance  of  a  sin 
gle  person  was  no  less  strange  than  instantaneous.  And  this 
person  was  a  woman.  She  emerged  from  the  edge  of  the  little 
nook,  near  which  the  revel  had  been  carried  on,  and  stood,  with 
out  speaking  a  syllable,  for  several  seconds,  looking  upon  the 
circle  with  an  expression  of  high-raised  scorn  in  her  countenance, 
which,  though  beheld  only  by  the  ruddy  blaze  of  firelight, 
seemed  to  the  eyes  of  our  actor  to  be  haughtily  beautiful.  Her 
complexion  was  dark,  but  richly  lustrous.  Her  hair  black  as 
midnight,  and  glossy  almost  as  its  stars.  Her  eyes  were  large, 
quick,  and  dazzling,  of  the  same  deep  raven  hue  with  her  tress 
es,  which  hung  down  upon  her  shoulders,  streaming  from  be 
neath  a  sable  network,  which,  covering  her  head,  partially  con 
cealed  her  forehead  also.  Her  person  was  rather  masculine  — 
her  carriage  majestic  —  and  the  involuntary  notion  which  rose 
in  th.e  mind  of  Horsey,  as  he  beheld  her,  was  that  she  would 
make  a  most  magnificent  Lady  Macbeth. 

Somewhat  ashamed  of  being  caught  by  a  lady  in  a  hand-to- 
hand  scuffle  with  a  genius  like  Benjamin  Bull,  our  actor  drew 
off  from  his  opponent,  who,  to  his  surprise,  exhibited  an  equal 
degree  of  willingness  with  himself  to  bring  the  contest  to  a  sud 
den  conclusion.  He  slunk  away,  and,  with  an  evolution  no  less 
prompt  than  unlooked  for,  actually  took  shelter  behind  Horsey, 
surveying  the  intruder  with  eyes  of  cat-like  cunning,  mingled 
with  some  little  apprehension,  from  over  the  shoulder  of  the  ac 
tor.  The  effect  upon  the  rest  of  tlu>  revellers  was  very  nearly 


THE    SIDOOX.S    ()!'    THE    SWAMP.  843 

the  same.  In  a  moment  they  hud  left  the  board ;  and  oiur  01 
two,  who  were  nearest  to  the  woods,  might  have  been  seen 
stealing  out  of  sight  into  the  shadow  of  the  contiguous  trees. 
Tones  was  the  only  one  of*  all  the  assembly  who  maintained  his 
nbrmer  place,  and  exhibited  neither  apprehension  nor  confusion. 
He  met  the  gaze  of  the  lady  with  respectful  firmness,  and,  as 
he  passed  our  actor  in  approaching  the  spot  where  she  stood, 
whispered  in  his  ears  :  — 

"Our  prima  donna  —  our  heroine  —  a  star  of  the  first  magni 
tude.  But  —  mum!" 

His  finger  touched  his  nose,  and  his  air  and  gesture  were 
that  of  one  whose  words,  had  they  been  supplied,  would  have 
been  : — 

"  But  a  Tartar  of  the  first  degree." 

Horsey  fancied  such  to  be  the  meaning  of  the  other's  ges 
tures,  and  was  half  confirmed  in  this  opinion,  when  the  first  ac 
cents  fell  from  the  lips  of  the  intruder. 

"  Mr.  Jones,  I  would  speak  with  you  a  moment." 

"Certainly,  ma'am  —  I  will  but  give  some  directions  to  the 
gentlemen,  and  follow  you." 

"  Gentlemen  !"  was  the  half-subdued  utterance  of  the  lady,  in 
tones  of  scornful  irony.  "  Gentlemen,  indeed  !" 

The  words  came  faintly  to  the  ears  of  Horsey,  who  stood, 
with  Jones,  somewhat  in  advance  of  the  rest ;  and,  however 
little  complimentary  to  himself  arid  his  companions,  he  could 
forgive  the  sneer  which  they  expressed,  in  consideration  of  the 
intense  superiority  of  manner  which  accompanied  their  utter 
ance,  and  which  assured  him  that  the  company  was  not  entirely 
without  a  redeeming  measure  of  that  talent  for  theatricals,  the 
want  of  which  had  hitherto  appeared  painfully  conspicuous  in 
nis  eyes,  in  spite  of  the  obvious  genius  of  Mr.  Benjamin  Bull 
and  the  flattering  judgment  of  Mr.  Jones.  The  lady  turned  on 
her  heel,  without  further  word  or  look,  disappearing  in  the 
recess  of  the  woods,  as  suddenly  as  she  came. 

"  So,  Bull,"  said  Jones,  reproachfully,  when  she  had  gone, 
"  it's  just  as  I  told  you.  Mark  me  —  you  haven't  heard  the  end 
of  it.  I  warned  you,  but  you  must  be  drinking  ;  and  all  that  I 
said  by  way  of  counsel  has  been  wasted  upon  you.  She's  heard 
all  the  uproar,  and  seen  it  too*,  and  she  will  toll  him  every  syl 


-  liUliDKU    iilCAG 

ittUc  when  lie.  conies.  She  will  forget  nothing  You  kno* 
that." 

"Ay,  ay  —  blast  it  —  she  has  the  memory  of  a  devil's  darn 
Well,  there's  no  help  now  —  I  must  grin  and  and  bear  it,"  said 
the  genius,  sullenly. 

"At  least,  it  will  be  wise  only  to  do  no  more  mischief  for  the 
night.  Away,  all  of  you,  to  your  nests ;  and  no  more  uproar 
There's  no  telling  how  soon  he  will  be  here,  and  if  he  finds 
you—" 

The  speech  was  finished  in  a  whisper  to  the  parties  immedi 
ately  interested,  and  lost  accordingly  to  our  amateur.  He  had 
heard  enough,  however,  to  perceive  that  there  was  some  mys 
tery  connected  with  his  companions,  some  matter  of  domestic 
history,  which  was  yet  withheld  from  him.  Who  was  "he"  of 
whom  Jones  had  spoken  so  emphatically,  yet  left  unnamed  ; 
and  why  should  a  woman,  however  great  might  be  her  merits 
taS  a  player,  maintain  an  influence  over  the  company,  of  such 
e-eemingly  tyrannical  extent  —  a  tyranny  which,  from  their 
spontaneous  recognition  of  its  sway,  would  seem  to  have  been 
u«f  habitual  and  undisputed  exercise?  The  approach  of  Jones 
wrested  his  cogitations. 

"  This  path,  Mr.  Horsey,  will  lead  you  to  your  place  of 
sleeping  for  the  night.  You  will  there  find  fire-light,  and  a  boy 
waiting  you.  I  will  join  you  before  you  sleep." 

"  But,  Mr.  Jones  —  the  lady  —  who  is  she  ?" 

"  Our  great  gun  —  our  princess  —  a  most  royal  heroine.  You 
see  what  a  magnificent  carriage  she  has?  —  she  is  tremendously 
popular  —  wins  applauses  wherever  she  goes  —  our  trump-card 
which  always  secures  the  game.  But  she  knows  it,  sir  —  that's 
the  misfortune.  She  knows  her  popularity  too  well,  and  she  is 
capricious  in  consequence.  We  have  to  humor  her,  sir,  in  all 
her  fancies,  and  some  of  them  are  strange  enough.  You  have 
no  idea  how  extravagant  she  can  be  at  times.  Exercises  the 
most  tyrannous  authority,  and  we  dare  not  offend  her." 

"  I'd  like  to  know  her.  Suppose  I  go  with  you  ?  You  can 
introduce  me,  and,  by  the  ghost  of  Garrick,  Mr.  Jones,  to  have 
a  chat  with  such  a  woman  will  only  be  a  proper  compensation 

for  the  annoyances  I  have  had  to  undergo  from  that  d d 

comedian  —  that  fellow  Bull,  of  whom  you  think  so  highly." 


THE   SIDDONS   OF    THE   SWAMP.  345 

"Not  now  —  not  for  the  Avorld  to-night.  She's  in  her  fit  to 
night,  and  would  fly  at  you  like  a  tigress.  To-morrow,  or  the 
next  day,  Mr.  Horsey,  as  soon  as  the  fit  passes  off.  I'll  tdl  you 
when  she's  in  the  humor  to  be  seen." 

"Do,  do  —  I  long  to  know  her.  She  looks  as  if  she'd  make 
a  first-rate  woman.  But  of  whom  did  you  speak  when  you 
threatened  Bull  with  the  anger  of  some  person  whom  you  did 
not  name  ?" 

"  Oh,  that  was  her  husband  —  our  chief  musician.  A  bloody 
fellow,  by  the  way,  of  whom  Bull  has  a  monstrous  terror.  He 
carne  nigh  cutting  Ben's  throat  once  already,  for  some  liberties 
he  took  with  his  wife,  and  since  then  we  know  how  to  keep 
him  in  order.  We  have  only  to  say  'he  is  coming'  —  meaning 
the  husband  —  and  the  fellow's  tail's  down  in  an  instant.  He 
loses  all  his  wit  and  humor,  and  skulks  off,  as  he  did  to-night, 
out  of  sight  arid  hearing,  a  most  thorough-paced  coward,  as 
ever  you  saw.  But  I  must  leave  you.  Our  princess  is  as  jeal 
ous  as  her  husband ;  and  as  I  am  acting  manager  at  present, 
I  must  be  careful  how  I  offend  her.  Your  path  lies  there. 
I  will  look  in  upon  you  as  soon  as  I  am  dismissed  from  her 
presence." 

Horsey,  somewhat  bewildered,  followed  the  path  which  had 
been  pointed  out  to  him,  while  Jones  proceeded  to  join  the  em 
press  whose  dictatorial  summons  he  really  did  not  dare  to  diso 
bey.  The  spot  in  which  she  received  him  was  not  far  distant 
from  that  which  the  revellers  had  occupied.  It  was  more 
thickly  garnished  with  trees  and  shrubbery  —  more  closely  en 
circled  by  the  swamp-thicket,  and,  in  place  of  a  rude  tent  of 
bushes,  such  as  served  the  rest  of  the  company,  a  log-house  was 
provided  for  her  ladyship,  rude  and  clumsy,  it  is  true,  but  com 
paratively  full  of  comforts,  and  not  without  its  attractions. 
Deference,  if  not  affection,  seemed  to  have  striven  to  gratify 
her  pride,  and  commend  itself  to  her  consideration.  A  little  ar 
bor  was  raised  before  her  door  upon  which  the  wild  grape  clam- 
bered;  and  rose-bushes  had  been  planted  along  the  path,  which 
was  neatly  shorn  of  weeds  and  made  free  of  all  obstructions. 
Within  the  cottage  the  same  care  might  have  shown  itself,  in  a 
hundred  little  particulars,  ' ait  we  need  not  waste  our  attention 

upon  details. 

id* 


346  BORDER    UEAOLKS. 

The  lady  met  Jones  at  the  eutitmce,  and,  without  a  word,  led 
the  way  into  the  dwelling.  Her  manner  betrayed  no  little  im 
patience. 

"  You  have  been  slow,  Mr.  Jones.  I  heard  of  your  arrival 
some  hours  ago,  and  have  been  expecting  your  presence  ever 
since." 

"  I  had  a  particular  charge  ma'am,  which  kept  me  busy.  AVe 
had  a  stranger  to  manage,  and — " 

"Ay,  ay  —  some  other  hopeful  scheme  —  but  I  care  not  lo 
listen  to  the  small  details  of  some  new  villany.  My  desire  is  to 
know  where  you  left  Saxon.  That  you  have  seen  him,  I  know 
—  that  you  must  have  seen  him  within  a  day,  I  am  convinced. 
What  I  desire  to  know  is,  where  you  saw  him  last,  and  when  I 
am  to  expect  him  here." 

"Really,  ma'am,  it  would  be  very  difficult  —  nay,  almost  im 
possible —  for  me  to  answer  all  these  inquiries.  You  know, 
quite  as  well  as  I  do,  the  danger  that  our  captain  incurs  at  this 
moment  —  nay,  at  every  moment,  and — " 

"  Pshaw,  Mr.  Jones  —  you  speak  as  if  you  thought  me  a  fool, 
or  doubted  my  prudence  and  fidelity.  Is  it  likely,  do  you 
think,  that  I  shall  prove  a  traitor  to  Edward  Saxon  ?  or  is  there 
any  probability  that  I  shall  deal  in  the  small  tittle-tattle  of  my 
sex,  and,  with  its  usual  vanity,  reveal,  with  unconscious  stupid 
ity,  what  I  know,  to  those  who  might  do  him  hurt  ?  You  know 
me  better  —  you  would  evade  my  inquiries-" 

"  On  my  honor,  ma'am — " 

"None  of  that  —  none  of  that.  Leave  off  your  long  pream 
bles,  and  answer  my  question.  When  did  you  see  your  cap 
tain  last,  and  where  1  I  repeat,  I  know  that  you  have  seen 
him  within  the  last  two  days  —  where  was  it,  and  what  was  the 
precise  time  ?" 

"  Perhaps,  ma'am,  you  have  more  knowledge  at  this  moment 
of  the  captain's  movements  than  myself.  He  has  not  confided 
to  me  any  particulars  but  those  which  had  connection  with  the 
tasks  upon  which  he  has  set  me,  and  which  I  was  endeavoring 
to  execute  at  the  very  moment  when  you  came  out  upon  the 
bayou." 

The  woman  looked  upon  the  speaker  with  a  degree  of  in 
tense  earnestness  in  her  o-lance  which  savored  of  a  rising  anger 


347 

Her  dark  eyes  «rlo?»nti>d  with  the  tires  <>f  ;i  ^-.-u lieriug1  thunder- 
storm,  while  a  smile  of  ineffable  scorn,  that  seemed  like  its 
softer  lightnings,  passed  over  her  thin  and  ruddy  lips. 

"Mr.  Jones,  yon  Jnnk  upon  me  as  upon  a  child,  with  whom 
you  may  trifle  at  pleasure.  Why  do  you  talk  to  me  of  your 
duties,  and  of  your  efforts  to  execute  them!  I  do  not  doult 
your  diligence,  nor  am  I  a  miserable  spy  to*  watch  your  per 
formance  of  them.  I  ask  a  simple  answer  in  reference  to  the 
movements  of  another  —  your  captain,  sir!" 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  but  you  know  my  oath.     I  am  forbidden — 

"  What !  to  communicate  with  me  ?  Has  he  then  forbidden 
you?  Ah!  has  it  come  to  that  —  does  he  fear  that  I  should 
know  ?  Are  his  doings  of  such  a  character  ?  An  outlaw  to  so 
ciety,  is  he  faithless  also  to  me?  —  and  you  —  you,  sir,  know, 
and  are  forbidden  to  declare.  It  is  well,  sir  —  very  well  —  it  is 
exactly  what  I  thought  —  exactly.  You  may  go,  sir  —  go!  1 
ask  you  not  to  betray  your  leader,  sir  —  keep  his  secrets  —  con 
ceal  his  perjuries  —  cloak  his  excesses  —  you  are  both  worthily 
employed  —  both.  Fear  not,  I  shall  do  you  justice  to  your  cap 
tain.  You  may  go  now.  I  have  done  with  you.  I  have  no 
more  questions." 

This  speech  was  spoken  with  an  impetuosity  which  defied  all 
interruption.  The  torrent  of  passion  convulsed  the  frame  of 
the  speaker  —  fired  her  eyes  —  made  her  checks  glow  with  the 
tempestuous  blood  that  coursed  through  her  veins  with  the  fierce 
rush  of  a  stream  that  no  longer  knows  its  limits  —  but  offered 
no  interruption  to  her  accents,  while  her  feet  traversed  the  little 
floor  of  the  cabin,  with  every  sentence  which  she  uttered,  arrested 
only  at  the  close  of  each  when  she  stopped  to  confront  the  hearer 
with  her  flashing  eyes. 

'•  Madam,"  said  Jones,  when  her  pause  suggested  to  him  an 
opportunity  for  reply,  "  what  will  you  have  me  say  or  do  ?  I 
am  commanded  to  obey  you." 

"  Yet  forbidden  to  answer  my  questions." 

"  No,  madam  ;  only  on  such  subjects  as  concern  the  movements 
of  the  beagles." 

"  Ay,  that  is  the  pretence.  You  know  that  I  care  to  kno:w 
nothing  of  your  movements,  or  of  any  movements  which  merely 
affect  your  schemes  of  plunder,  an-1  when  I  would  ask  of  kiin. 


348  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

I  am  answered  by  a  reference  to  yonr  oatli  What  has  your 
oath  to  do  with  his  movements  ?" 

"He  is  one  of  us — his  movements  are  those  of  the  beagles. 

"  You  will  not  answer  me,  Mr.  Jones  ?" 

"  Madam,  are  you  not  already  in  possession  of  all  the  infor 
mation  which  I  can  give  you  ?"  said  Jones,  significantly. 

"  What  mean  you,  sir  ?" 

11  The  dwarf — r  Stillyards." 

"  What  of  him  ?     Has  he  returned  ?" 

"  He  has,  madam.  He  stood  near  the  captain  last  night  — 
so  near  that,  had  he  been  discovered,  his  life  had  been  but  little 
worth.  Saxon  would  have  put  a  bullet  through  his  head  had 
he  known  of  his  presence,  and  dreamed  that  he  had  been  sent 
as  a  spy  upon  his  actions." 

"  Ha  !  what  mean  you  by  calling  him  a  spy  —  who  sent  him 
as  a  spy  ?" 

"  You,  madam,  should  need  no  answer  to  that  question. 
Enough,  that  I  know  that  he  was  present  —  that  he  was  pres 
ent  as  a  spy  —  and  may  reveal  to  you  those  matters  which  I 
dare  not.  Stillyards  is  already  here,  if  you  have  not  seen  him  ; 
and  has,  probably,  been  so  far  successful  that  he  is  able  to  an 
swer  all  your  questions ;  as  he  has  no  such  scruples  as  myself, 
he  probably  will  do  so.  But,  let  me  counsel  you,  madam,  for 
your  own  sake,  no  less  than  that  of  our  leader,  that  you  employ 
that  crooked  scoundrel  no  farther  in  such  matters.  If  discov 
ered,  Saxon  will  kill  him,  and,  if  not,  he  may  pick  up  some 
secret  of  the  leader,  upon  which  his  own  life  and  the  lives  of 
all  of  us  might  depend.  You  do  not  know  the  evil  which  may 
follow  this  evil  practice,  for  which,  if  you  will  permit  me  to  de 
clare,  there  can  be  no  sort  of  necessity.  Saxon,  let  me  assure 
you,  is  as  faithful  to  you  as  he  is  to  us ;  and  if  ever  mortal  man 
loved  woman,  it  is  certain  that  he  loves  you." 

"  Ah,  Mr,  Jones,"  responded  the  woman  in  milder  accents, 
"  could  I  be  sure  of  this ;  but  the  feeling  of  my  own  unworthi- 
ness,  is  one  that  always  produces  a  doubt  of  his  fidelity;  and, 
if  he  loves  me,  as  you  say,  why  is  it  that  I  am  now  so  constant 
ly  deserted  ?" 

"Believe  me,  madam,  it  could  not  well  be  otherwise." 

44  Would  I  could  believe  you,  Jones;   would  I  could  —  but  — 


PASSION    AND    CUNNING    AT    ODDS.  349 

but  —  no  matter.  You  will  keep  my  secret,  Jones,  —  you  will 
say  nothing  of  what  you  know  ?" 

"Why  should  I,  madam?  —  it  were  of  no  use,  unless  it  be 
came  necessary  to  prevent  a  repetition  of  a  practice  which  en 
dangers  the  lives  of  all.  Stillyards  must  not  be  again  employed 
in  this  business." 

"  How,  sir,  do  you  command  me  ?" 

"  No,  madam,  far  be  it  from  me  to  do  so.  But  I  take  leave 
to  counsel  you ;  and  to  add,  that  my  own  knife  should  silence 
the  dwarf  for  ever,  should  I  again  detect  him  in  the  position  in 
which  I  encountered  him  last  night." 

"  Enough,  sir,"  replied  the  lady,  proudly,  "  I  shall  take  care 
that  the  lad  encounters  no  such  risks  at  your  hands  in  future, 
and  warn  you,  therefore,  that  I  shall  avenge  any  injury  which 
your  suspicions  or  your  malice  may  prompt  you  to  inflict  upon 
him." 

"  Malice,  madam  !  it  would  be  malice  were  I  to  declare  to 
our  captain  what  has  passed  between  us.  But  you  mistake  me, 
madam ;  I  have  no  malice  against  you,  if  for  no  other  reason, 
because  I  sincerely  love  our  leader." 

"  Mr.  Jones,"  said  the  lady,  "  I  requested  you  to  say  nothing 
to  Saxon  of  what  you  know.  I  now  amend  my  request,  simply 
to  beg  that  you  will  merely  give  me  an  opportunity  of  antici 
pating  your  communication  to  him  of  every  particular  relating 
to  the  spy,  as  you  have  been  pleased  to  call  the  dwarf,  in  my 
employ.  It  shall  never  be  said  that  Florence  Marbois,  what 
ever  may  be  her  errors  and  her  vices,  dreaded  to  speak  the 
truth  herself  in  the  ears  of  the  man  she  loved.  I  may  have 
wronged  him  by  my  suspicions  —  but  I  will  not  wrong  him  so 
greatly  as  to  yield  to  an  underling  any  confidence,  however  un 
important,  which  I  yet  withheld  from  him.  You  may  leave  me 
now,  sir." 

A  faint  smile  passed  over  the  features  of  Jones,  as  he  left  the 
apartment. 

"  Now,  were  I  the  malignant  she  has  called  me,"  he  uttered  in 
low  soliloquy  as  he  entered  the  woods,  "  I  should  not  forgive  — 
certainly  never  forget  —  this  bitter  and  foolish  speech.  It  were 
no  difficult  matter  to  ruin  her  with  Saxon  for  ever.  But  what 
use  1  A  woman,  in  all  her  pride  and  glory,  is  something  like  a 


350  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

soap-bubble  after  all.  She  glitters  and  floats  in  air  for  a  while, 
is  decked  with  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow,  but  you  see  through 
her  all  the  time,  and  she  bursts  at  last.  I  pity  Florence  —  she 
has  many  excellent  qualities,  and,  but  for  the  convulsive  jeal 
ousy  of  her  temper,  would  be  as  amiable  as  she  is  lovely.  She 
will  break  some  day,  and  cover  us  with  lather.  It  will  be  our 
care  to  see  that  she  does  not  blind  our  eyes  with  the  soap." 

With  this  effort  at  small  philosophy  and  smaller  wit,  the  out 
law  proceeded  to  the  hut  of  the  wandering  actor.  His  place 
was  supplied,  in  the  presence  of  the  lady, by  the  dwarf,  Still- 
yards,  who  made  his  appearance  the  moment  after  the  departure 
of  the  other.  He  had  evidently  continued  his  occupation  of  the 
spy,  and  had  listened  to  the  whole  conference  between  them. 
With  a  grin,  which  had  in  it  as  much  malice  as  delight,  he  pre 
faced  his  revelations  to  the  lady  by  some  natural  remarks  upon 
what  he  had  heard ;  but  was  surprised  at  receiving  a  rebuke 
for  his  ill-timed  impertinence. 

"To  your  business,  Stilly  ard  s  !  you  saw  the  captain  —  he 
was  well  ?" 

This  question  answered  to  her  satisfaction,  she  dismissed  him 
without  further  inquiry,  betraying,  in  the  novel  forbearance 
which  she  manifested,  the  influence  had  upon  her  mind  by  the 
serious  caution  which  Jones  had  given  her.  The  importance 
of  the  dwarf  was  in  no  small  degree  lessened  by  this  course  of 
proceeding. 

"  A  fool's  journey,  indeed,"  he  muttered  to  himself  as  he 
went,  "  if  I'm  not  to  use  what  I  went  for.  But  I'll  pick  a  hole 
in  both  their  coats  when  they're  least  a-thinking.  I've  a  word 
to  open  madam's  ears  whenever  I  choose  it,  and  I'll  speak  it 
too,  sooner  than  lose  my  best  business.  The  only  good  shares 
I  gits  comes  from  my  lady,  and  if  she  stops  hearing,  she'll  stop 
paying.  Well,  it'll  cost  'em  both  a  great  deal  more  in  the  end  ; 
and  if  I  don't  git  nothing  by  it,  I'll  git  satisfaction.  I'll  show 
'em  that  the  broken  back  that  makes  'em  laugh,  can  make  'em 
cry  too  ;  and  if  I  only  gits  my  laugh  for  my  pains  —  well,  that's 
something. 


TEKiUBLE 


CHAPTER   XXX 

TERRIBLE    EVENTS HAMLET     BECOMES    COMMON    WEAR  —  TUB 

OUTLAW THE    HEROINE. 

"And  he  had  learned  to  love  —  I  know  not  why, 
For  this,  in  such  as  him,  seems  strange  of  mood  !" 
*  *  *    '         *  *  * 

"And  there  was  one  soft  breast,  as  hath  been  said. 
Which  unto  his  was  bound  in  stronger  ties 
Than  the  church  binds  withal." — Ckilde  Harold. 

JONES,  when  he  returned  to  the  woodland  cover  which  had 
been  assigned  to  Horsey  as  his  sleeping  apartment,  discovered 
the  worthy  actor  half  undressed,  squat  upon  the  turf,  and  look 
ing  around  him  with  a  countenance  in  which  consternation  might 
be  said  to  be  the  prevailing  expression. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter,  Mr.  Horsey  ?"  demanded  the 
outlaw. 

"  Matter,  sir,"  returned  the  other,  "  matter  enough." 

"  How  !  you  seem  alarmed — you  seem  angry." 

"Not  alarmed,  but  cursedly  astounded,  and,  as  you  say,  a 
little  angry.  Mr.  Jones,  I'm  cursedly  af.  aid  that  this  company 
of  yours  will  not  exactly  answer." 

"  How,  sir  ?" 

"  They  lack  moral,  sir,"  was  the  reply  of  Horsey,  in  lower 
tones,  and  something  more  of  caution  in  his  manner. 

"  Indeed,"  said  the  other,  "  what  leads  you  to  this  conclu 
sion  i" 

"Nay,  let  me  not  do  injustice  to  all,  when  the  offence  may 
be  that  of  one  only.  Would  you  believe  it  sir  ?  —  my  clothes 
we  stolen !" 

"  Can  it  be  possible  1" 

"  Not  only  possible,  but  true.  They  are  gone,  sir  —  a  toler 
ably  new  coat  —  blue  cloth,  gilt  buttons,  with  velvet  collar,  and 


352  BOHDKU    BEAGLES. 

silk  lining  —  two  shirts  —  pants,  a  sort  of  pepper-and-salt,  very 
fine  though,  with  figured  braid  front  and  broad  edging  —  vest, 
fine  satin,  a  little  frayed  at  the  right  pocket,  double  buckles  in 
the  back,  no  strings,  and  my  name,  written  in  India-ink  on  the 
lining,  '  Thomas  Horsey,  American  Theatre,  New  Orleans,'  all 
in  full.  In  the  vest,  a  silver  pencil-case,  ever-pointed,  without 
leads ;  in  the  pants,  a  penknife,  toothpick,  and  comb  ;  in  the 
coat,  a  handkerchief  and  pocket  Shaksperc,  fine  miniature, 
Cadell's  edition,  London,  much  used,  and  with  pencil-marks  101 
reading,  under  emphasized  passages.  I  would  not  take  twenty 
dollars  for  the  Shakspere  alone,  to  say  nothing  of  the  clothes." 

"  Truly  a  very  serious  loss,  if  they  be  list,"  was  the  reply  of 
Jones ;  "  but  I'm  in  hopes,  Mr.  Horsey,  that  they  are  only  mis 
laid.  Our  profession,  as  you  well  know,  calls  for  persons  of 
nice  honor  in  particular,  and  I  should  prefer  believing  any  mis 
chance  sooner  than  the  dishonesty  of  any  of  our  men.  Have 
you  looked  where  you  left  them  ?" 

"  Everywhere." 

"  Let  us  look  again.  It  is  too  much  to  lose  without  some 
effort,  and  you  may  have  overlooked  them  in  the  darkness  of 
the  night.  Where  did  you  lay  them  ?" 

"  Here,  on  this  very  pole,  and  beneath  these  two  trees ;  I 
changed  my  dress  behind  them.  My  saddlebags,  you  see,  are 
safe,  and  that  is  fortunate,  for  my  favorite  costume,  and  the  most 
costly,  is  within  them.  I  have  a  Romeo  there,  sir,  a  Richard, 
two  field-officers,  a  Mustapha,  and  other  uncertain  characters. 
My  Hamlet,  you  see,  I  have  on,  and,  egad,  '  motley's  my  only 
wear'  now,  unless  I  can  recover  the  missing  matters.  The  only 
citizen's  dress  I  had,  is  gone,  and  I  should  make  a  comical  fig 
ure  by  daylight,  in  this  dress  of  Denmark." 

"A  noble  figure  you  mean,  sir  —  you  never  looked  hall  so 
well  in  any  dress  in  your  life,  Mr.  Horsey,  as  in  that,"  was  the 
reply,  full  of  tones  of  admiration,  which  the  outlaw  made.  It 
went  consolingly  to  our  actor's  heart,  through  the  medium  of  his 
vanity ;  and  the  importance  of  his  loss  became  a  little  lessened 
in  his  eyes. 

*'  Upon  my  soul,  continued  the  outlaw,  with  a  successful  grav 
ity  of  countenance,  while  he  affected  to  look  for  the  missing  ar 
ticles,  "  were  1  you,  Mr.  Horsey,  I  should  never  desire  any 


HAMLET    BECOMES    COMMON    WEAR.  353 

other  dress  than  that  which  you  wore  to-night.     Your  figurc- 
and  general  air,  sir,  suit  admirably  the  costume  of  Hamlet." 

"  Do  you  really  think  so,  Jones  ?" 

"Indeed  I  do;  your  carriage  was  particularly  fine  —  the 
union  of  royal  dignity  and  profound  human  thought,  which  you 
contrived  —  I  know  not  how  —  to  throw  into  the  countenance 
of  the  melancholy  prince,  was  inimitable.  The  habitual  sense 
of  royalty  was  there  — present  always  to  the  sight;  and  yet 
every  movement  of  the  lips,  every  turn  of  the  body,  every  glance 
of  the  eye,  subdued  while  graceful,  and  full  of  signification  while 
most  easy,  seemed  to  say,  with  the  preacher,  '  Vanity  of  vani 
ties,  all  is  vanity.'  Your  Hamlet,  sir,  seemed  to  denote,  what 
he  must  have  felt  always,  that  he  was  the  victim  of  the  dcsti- 
iiies." 

"That  is  a  good  idea,  Mr.  Jones  —  a  devilish  good  idea  —  a 
correct  notion  of  the  character.  I  must  confess  I  never  thought 
that  before,  though,  certainly,  I  must  have  felt  it,  if  my  person 
ation  was  correct.  I  must  read  the  play  more,  closely  —  I  must 
renew  my  studies.  D — n  the  fellow  for  stealing  the  book  — 
the  breeches  he  may  have  —  can't  you  make  it  known  without 
offending  the  company,  Mr.  Jones  ?  —  Say  that  the  thief  may 
have  vest  and  breeches,  returning  me  my  Shakspere  and  the 
coat  V 

The  result  of  the  search,  in  spite  of  the  liberal  offer  which 
Horsey  had  made,  was  unsatisfactory.  The  worthy  actor  was 
compelled  to  wear  his  professional  costume  in  common,  and  the 
merriment  which  his  appearance  by  daylight  occasioned  among 
the  outlaws,  whom  he  was  still  persuaded  to  regard  as  brethren 
—  fellows  of  the  sock  and  buskin  —  may  be  more  easily  conjec 
tured  than  described.  Not  that  he  himself  was  suffered  to  be 
come  conscious  of  the  fun  which  he  inspired.  Jones  had  his 
object  in  preserving  order,  and  was  successful  in  curbing  the 
open  expression  of  that  mirth  which  was  felt  on  every  side  as 
the  actor  strutted  among  them  —  perhaps  not  so  much  dissatis 
fied  with  his  losses,  as  pleased  with  the  opportunity  of  appear 
ing  so  often  in  character,  to  a  person  who,  like  Jones,  seemed 
to  behold  his  display  with  so  much  unction,  and  with  such  a  laud 
able  desire  to  profit  by  his  exhibitions.  It  would  have  been 
easy  to  have  kept  the  actor  some  tiino  Conger  in  so  pleasant  a 


354  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

captivity,  had  it  been  the  object  of  the  outlaws  to  have  done  so 
It  was  only  necessary  on  the  part  of  their  leader  to  hint  a  de 
sire  that  the  phlegmatic,  yet  fanciful  Hamlet  —  a  Jacques  under 
different  aspects  of  fortune — should  become  the  proud  and  pas 
sionate  Moor  for  a  season ;  and  Horsey,  whatever  might  have 
been  his  rising  suspicions  of  his  companions,  would  have  dis 
missed  them  on  the  instant  that  he  put  on  the  habit  of  Othello. 
Vanity  is  one  of  the  most  unsuspicious  of  all  moral  objects.  The 
ear  that  is  open  only  to  praise  seems  to  acquire  its  intense  eager 
ness  at  the  expense  of  the  other  perceptive  faculties.  The  eye 
is  closed  to  the  sneer  that  lurks  about  the  lips  of  irony  —  and  a 
general  obtuseness  of  the  judgment,  in  all  but  the  leading  de 
sire  of  the  mind,  distinguishes  that  moral  gourmand,  for  whom 
toiling  Flattery  —  a  creature  that  is  base  in  proportion  to  the 
folly  which  it  feeds  —  ministers  its  spurious  sweets,  that,  per 
haps,  only  do  not  satiate,  because  they  are  so  utterly  unsubstan 
tial.  But  let  us  not  anticipate.  It  will  not  be  necessary  here 
to  say  how  long  Horsey  remained  in  the  neighborhood  of  Cane 
Castle,  or  what  were  the  events  that  subsequently  befell  him. 
Let  us  finish  with  the  night  in  .which  he  lost  his  inexpressibles, 
and  in  which  we  have  still  something  more  to  do,  and  some 
other  parties  to  produce. 

After  devoting  considerable  time,  and  a  reasonable  degree  of 
effort,  for  the  recovery  of  the  lost  wardrobe,  Jones  left  the  actor 
to  his  sylvan  couch,  while  he  returned  to  his  own  —  a  shelter  of 
twigs,  bark,  and  bushes,  some  fifty  yards  distant.  The  actor 
soon  slept,  to  dream  of  parts  and  persons,  in  the  assumption  of 
which  the  loss  of  his  own  garments  could  not  have  been  seriously 
felt.  Sleep  soon  overcame  the  outlaw  also ;  and  it  was  only 
after  several  shakes  of  the  shoulder  that  the  latter  was  awa 
kened  from  his  slumbers  by  a  stranger  at  his  side. 

"Ha!  captain  —  you!"  he  exclaimed,  when  fully  aroused, 
and  starting  to  his  feet  as  he  distinguished  the  face  and  form  of 
his  visiter  in  the  dim  starlight. 

"Yes,"  was  the  answer  in  the  tones  of  Saxon.  /'Have  you 
found  your  man?" 

"  He  is  here — we  have  played  the  game  so  far  with  tolerable 
success." 

"  You  have  the  clothes  then  ?" 


THE    OUTLAW— THE    HEItOINL. 

««  Yes  —  coat,  vest,  and  oreeches." 

"  That  is  well.  Let  them  be  well  blooded  ;  put  a  knife  and 
oullet  hole  in  the  breast  and  body,  and  send  them  off  with  the 
first  peep  of  morning  to  Nawls.  Keep  up  the  game  with  this 
silly  fellow  a  few  days  longer,  and  I  will  then  give  you  orders 
what  to  do  with  him.  He  is  unsuspicious  of  the  truth  ?" 
"  Quite." 

"That  is  well  — keep  him  so — but  do  not  suffer  yourself  to 
be  deceived.  He  may  play  in  characters  more  troublesome  to 
a  good  beagle  than  Othello  or  Macbeth.  You  were  careful  to 
take  him  along  the  cross  paths  to  the  swamp  ?" 

"  Ay,  sir  —  it  would  puzzle  him  to  find  his  way  out  again 
without  help ;  but  he  will  not  seek  to  do  so  while  we  hold  to 
our  theatrical  purposes,  and  this  we  can  safely  do  for  a  reason 
able  space  longer.  Do  you  leave  the  castle  to-morrow  ?" 

"  To-night.  I  will  but  see  Florence  first,  and  excuse  myself 
for  another  flight." 

"  That  is  only  a  proper  caution,  sir.     She  needs  it," 
"  How  !     Have  you  seen  her  ?"  demanded  Saxon  with  some 
anxiety. 

"  She  came  out  upon  us  while  we  were  drenching  the  boys 
in  the  very  height  of  our  play  with  the  actor." 

"Ha! — well!  The  old  passion,  I  suppose?"  inquired  the 
outlaw,  with  some  disquiet  in  his  tones.  "Would  she  were 
safely  in  Orleans  again.  W'hat  did  she  come  for  ?" 

"To  summon  me  to  the  castle  —  to  make  inquiries  after  you 
— your  whereabouts  —your  objects  — the  cause  of  your  delay." 
"Jealous,  suspicious  woman  !  —  I  must  cure  her  of  this;  but 
the  task  is  not  so  easy.  She  has  a  furnace  in  her  veins  that 
maddens  her.  Her  brain  is  all  fire  and  suspicion,  and  her  heart 
— but  I  must  forgive  her  all,  since  her  madness  grows  out  of  a 
love,  which  is  as  little  qualified  and  doubtful  as  her  jealousy. 
And  yet,  Heaven  keep  me  from  such  a  passion  as  hers  —  to  b<~ 
its  object  even  is  a  terror.  It  would  consume  while  it  worships 
— and  still  enslaves  by  the  intensity  of  its  regards.  There  is. 
no  tyranny  like  that  which  never  suffers  you  from  under  its 
eye." 

The  conference  between  the  two  outlaws  was  continued  for  a 
brief  space  longer,  but  as  it  involved  matters  which  have  no 


BORDER   BEAGLES. 

connection  with  our  narrative,  it  needs  no  record  here.  WLen 
they  separated,  Jones  resumed  his  couch,  while  Saxon,  passing 
through  the  narrow  pathway  already  traversed  by  the  reader, 
entered  upon  that  densely-encircled  area,  on  the  edge  of  which 
stood  the  little  cottage  of  his  leman. 

Florence  Marbois  —  the  young,  the  beautiful,  the  devoted  — 
was  a  Creole  of  Louisiana,  whose  parents  were  French,  and 
who,  dying  of  yellow  fever  in  Orleans  when  she  was  yet  a  child, 
left  her  to  the  doubtful  care  of  indifferent  relatives,  whose  re 
sponsibility,  however  lightly  it  may  have  been  felt,  had  been 
abruptly  terminated  by  her  clandestine  flight  to  the  arms  of  an 
other  guardian,  from  whose  affection  she  had  better  hopes  of 
those  regards  and  that  tenderness,  which  were  so  dear  to  one  so 
adhesive  as  herself,  and  of  which  she  had  heretofore  known  so 
little.  Edward  Saxon  —  of  whom  she  then  knew  nothing,  but 
that  he  was  noble  in  form,  handsome  in  features,  proud  in  spirit 
and  intelligent  in  mind,  far  beyond  the  average  of  those  intel 
lects  to  which  she  had  been  accustomed — became  her  protector 

—  her  protector  in  that  sense  of  the  word  which   excludes  her 
from  all  social  consideration  ;  and  though  it  may  most  frequently 
have  its  origin  in  love,  more  certainly  finds  its  termination  in 
disgrace.     She  fled  to  his  arms,  and  in  the  intoxication  of  a  first 
dream  of  passion  realized,  she  felt  no  rebukings  of  conscience 

—  no  compunctious  visitings —  no  misgivings  that  the  love  which 
had  prevailed  over  virtue  would  fail  to  survive  its  loss.     But 
the  heart  which  craved  the  affection  which  it  has  not  often  found, 
is  of  all  others  the  most  suspiciously  watchful  of  that  brief  por 
tion  which  fate  allows  it ;    and  when,  in  process  of  time,  the 
various  employments  of  her  lover,  took  him  from  her  side,  and 
kept  him  absent  for  days,  and  weeks,  and  sometimes  months, 
Jealousy,  that  twin-passion  of  love,  which,  perhaps,  must  always 
be  as  active  as  its  elder  sister,  particularly  where  the  rights  of 
the  latter  have  been  left  unestablished  by  the  legitimate  author 
ities,  grew  no  less  violent  than  the  flame  of  which   it  may  be 
called  the  black  and  veiling  smoke ;  and  she  who  could  dote,  at 
one  moment,  with  devotion,  on  the  bosom  of  her  seducer,  soon 
showed  him  that  she  was  not  without  the  spirit  to  rise,  at   an 
other,  into  rebellion  and  hostility.      Her  fits  of  passion  ;innoycd 
mid  sometimes  confounded   him  ; -;uid  the  first  iii.-jiulses   having 


THE  OUTLAW  —  THE  HEROINE.  357 

dubsided,  which  had  led  him,  as  fiercely  fond  as  herself,  to  as 
sume  the  charge  of  one  so  wild  and  violent,  he  sighed  with 
something  of  regret  as  he  looked  back  to  a  condition  of 
freedom,  which  he  now  craved,  but  which  he  found  himself  ut 
terly  unable  to  restore.  Though  outlawed,  he  was  not  utterly 
abandoned,  and  his  soul  shrunk  from  the  suggestions,  which 
had  never  been  self-prompted  before,  to  rid  himself,  by  a  single 
act  of  brutality,  from  ties  which,  however  sweet  at  first,  had 
now  become  an  encumbrance.  Now,  for  the  first  time,  how 
ever,  dark  resolves  were  self-offered  to  his  mind  ;  and  ere  he 
emerged  from  the  wood  which  separated  the  encampment  of  the 
robbers  from  the  arena  in  which  the  cottage  of  his  mistress  stood, 
he  paused  under  their  influence,  and  his  lips  parted  in  murmured 
soliloquy : — 

"  And  why  should  it  be  borne  longer  ?"  he  exclaimed  —  "  why 
should  I  be  the  victim  of  eternal  jealousies  —  a  suspicion  that 
haunts  my  footsteps  —  that  watches  my  actions  —  that  hangs 
like  an  incubus  upon  my  heart  ?  Can  there  be  any  wisdom  in 
such  patience  1  Shall  it  be  that  I,  who  have  shaken  off  the  fear 
with  the  love  of  man  —  who  have  bidden  defiance  to  his  power 
no  less  than  to  that  of  God  —  that  I  should,  yield  up  life  and 
freedom  —  the  enjoyment  of  other  society  which  might  in  part 
console  me  for  the  loss  of  those  which  the  outlaw  must  ever  for 
feit,  in  a  base  homage  to  one  for  whom  I  have  no  love  —  for 
whose  claims,  even  lust  now  fails  to  offer  any  argument  1  Beau 
tiful  once  —  beautiful  still  —  loving  me  as  I  believe  thou  liast 
done  —  Florence  Marbois,  thou  art  yet  nothing  in  my  sight. 
Thy  love  is  persecution  ;  and  it  is  pity  —  pity  only  —  which  has 
made  me,  at  great  effort,  wear  a  face,  when  I  approached  thee, 
of  regard  which  I  can  no  longer  feel.  I  remember  what  thou 
•wast  when  I  first  saw  thee  —  when  I  first  took  thee  in  my  arms 
that  fatal  night,  when,  in  a  boat  which  might  have  been  a  coffin 
to  us  both,  the  winds  bore  us  over  the  Pontchartrain  together  — 
I  remember  what  thou  wast,  and  Avhat  I  promised  to  thee  then, 
and  the  memory  of  that  night  rises  up  to  save  thee  and  to  soften 
me.  But,  can  I  always  spare  —  can  I  always  endure  the  tyran 
ny  which  thy  vain  jealousies  inflict  ?  Is  there  reason  why  it 
should  be  borne  —  nay,  is  there  not  good  reason  now,  why  it 
ihould  cease  soon  and  for  ever.  It  must  —  it  shall !  There  is 


•J58  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

a  bound  beyond  whit  h  passion  must  not  go —  a  limit  where 
endurance  stops,  and  forbearance  becomes  a  shame  as  it  has 
long  before  become  a  weariness.  That  bound  is  reached  —  that 
limit  is  overpassed ;  and  the  heart  which  now  flows  with  all  its 
streams  to  another,  must  soon  be  freed  from  thee.  But  for  this 
I.  had  borne  with  thee  still  longer  —  I  had  borne  with  thce  in 
pity  for  thy  youth  —  for  that  love  even,  which  thou  still  bearest 
to  one  to  whom  it  has  been  an  annoyance  for  weary  months, 
and  to  whom,  unless  checked  in  season,  it  must  become  a  curse !" 
He  paused  and  looked  around  him,  as  if  struck  by  approach 
ing  footsteps,  but  no  one  approached  him.  As  if  reassured,  his 
words  again  broke  forth  in  soliloquy  —  such  soliloquy  as  denoted 
the  doubts  and  indecision  of  a  spirit,  for  the  first  time  approach 
ing  a  purpose  of  excessive  guilt  and  danger.  What  he  said 
tended  to  show  that  the  woman  whom  his  arts  had  betrayed, 
was  about  to  be  cast  from  his  least  regards  ;  and  nothing  seemed 
to  be  wanting  to  the  more  fell  and  cruel  resolution  which  would 
thrust  her  from  his  path,  but  that  frequent  contemplation  of  the 
subject,  which  reconciles  the  corrupted  heart,  step  by  step,  to  the 
last  degree  of  crime.  That  this  stage  of  wickedness  had  not  yet 
been  reached  by  the  outlaw,  was  clear  enough,  by  the  frequent 
recurrence,  in  what  he  said,  to  that  period  in  the  history  of  their 
mutual  fortunes,  when  the  intercourse  between  them  had  been 
productive  of  equal  pleasure  to  them  both.  So  long  as  the 
memory  may  still  look  back  with  tenderness  to  the  green  gar 
den-spots  of  youth,  the  heart  is  not  utterly  corrupt  —  there  is 
still  a  part  not  yet  ossified  — a  narrow,  isolated  spot,  from  which 
the  springs  of  relieving  pity  may  well  up  and  soften,  though 
they  ma^  not  often  heal,  the  rest 


THE    DEATH    OF    1'ASSION  869 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

DEATH    OF    PASSION  —  NEW    PASSION    FROM    ITS    ASHKP 

"Die  all  my  fears, 

And  waking  jealousies,  which  have  so  long 
Been  my  tormentors;  there's  now  no  suspicion." — MAS.SINGER. 

IT  was  midnight,  but  Florence  Marbois  did  not  sleep.  She 
«at  beside  the  window,  looking  forth  upon  the  various  shadows 
of  the  night  and  forest.  The  scene  was  unspeakably  sweet  and 
soft,  but  it  was  also  sad  and  mysterious.  A  faint  murmur,  like 
the  distant  meanings  of  a  spirit  at  watch  over  the  desolate 
abodes  of  youth  and  happiness,  came  to  her  ears  through  the 
subdued  silence  hanging  over  the  scene.  The  shadows  drooped, 
as  if  in  kindred  affliction,  beneath  the  grave  and  brooding  star 
light.  The  gray  cypresses  rose  up  like  spectres  amidst  the 
green  foliage  that  grew  thickly  along  the  edges  of  the  swamp, 
and  looming  forward  in  the  dewy  haze  of  midnight,  seemed  to 
harmonize  with  the  melancholy  aspects  of  the  region.  Nor  was 
the  voice  of  the  water,  as  it  rose  from  a  brooklet  that  gurgled 
under  the  upbulging  roots  of  a  tree  which  it  had  partially  de 
tached  from  its  foothold,  without  a  fitting  tone  of  sadness  for 
the  scene. 

The  heart  of  Florence  felt  the  mysterious  sympathies  accord 
ed  by  the  unintelligent  nature  at  her  feet.  Her  head  rested 
upon  her  palms  as  she  looked  forth  and  listened  —  her  eyes,  as 
if  satisfied,  strove  not  to  pierce  the  dense  maze  of  forest  all 
around  her ;  and  while  her  lips  murmured  a  complaint  of  soli 
tude,  such  as  seemed  to  be  the  burden  of  all  voices,  her  cheeks 
were  glistening  with  those  holy  dews  which  such  beauty  as  hers 
—  had  she  been  still  alive  to  social  vanities  —  should  not  have 
regretted,  since  they  served  to  crown  beauty  with  the  more  pre 
vailing  charm  of  sweetness,  and  to  consecrate  to  love  the  very 
sorrows'" in  which  their  origin  is  found. 


860  BORDER    BEAGLES 

Tlio  heart  of  Florence  \v;is  softened,  but  not  at  ease.  Tears 
had  brought  relief — a  brief  respite  from  the  gnawing  discontent 
which  preyed  upon  her  heart — but  not  a  cure  —  not  a  remedy. 
If  -she  felt  more  at  ease,  it  was  the  ease  of  one  who  has  just 
drank  the  soothing  draught,  and  can  only  find  relief  while  under 
its  influence.  Fancies,  which  are  sometimes  hopes  in  disguise, 
the  ephemeras  of  the  soul,  had  been  with  her  in  momentary  vis 
itation;  and,  though  vague,  unstable,  and  illusive,  they  had  at 
least  diverted  the  grief  which  might  else  have  overborne. 
True,  they  fly  at  last,  but  so  do  the  angels ;  and  who  would  re 
fuse  the  blessing  of  the  visit,  in  which  the  very  air  blossoms, 
through  which  they  come,  because  of  the  conviction  that  they 
must  fly  with  the  morning  ?  The  heart  that  has  been  full  of 
sorrow,  should  be  the  last  to  speculate  unnecessarily  upon  the 
always  unprofitable  future. 

Unfortunately,  the  hopes  of  Florence  had  not  been  wise 
hopes,  for  they  had  not  been  good  ones.  She  loved  unworthily 
—  she  had  sinned  —  she  lacked  the  securities  of  virtue,  and  had 
no  confidence  in  that  of  others.  Her  hopes,  based  upon  the 
probable  truth  of  her  lover,  were  idly  founded.  They  were 
made  to  rest  upon  his  tastes,  his  passions,  her  own  powers  of 
pleasing,  her  frail  and  fading  charms,  and  her  undisguised  at 
tachment  for  him.  They  had  not  been  placed  where,  to  be  se 
cure,  all  affections  must  be  placed  —  upon  her  own  just  claims 
to  respect,  and  upon  the  inflexible  principles  of  truth  in  the  man 
to  whom  her  affections  had  been  given. 

Her  lover  —  so  she  once  held  him — had  raised  his  hand  in 
defiance  to  society,  in  the  rigid  exercise  of  whose  laws  the  only 
security  of  woman  may  be  found  ;  and  her  appeal  for  justice 
now  lay  to  his  passions  and  caprices  alone  —  to  passions  which 
constant  provocation  made  active  and  imperious  —  to  caprices 
that  fluctuated  with  an  appetite  more  peevish  with  every  in 
dulgence,  and  more  recklessly  resolved  with  every  denial. 

But  Florence  Marbois  was  a  creature  of  impulses,  not  of 
thought;  and,  if  there  were  moments  in  which  she  estimated 
correctly  her  miserable  condition  of  dependence,  such  thoughts 
wove  soon  driven  away  as  intruders,  by  the  gentle  accent,  the 
kindly  solicitude  —  not  often  shown  in  the  latter  days  of  her 
heart's  history  —  which  the  pity  of  her  betrayer  vouchsafed  to 


THE  DEATH   OF   1'.-  \SSluX. 


bestow,  hi  return  for  that   SncrcaMii^  Ititfiingu  and  dtivolcul  1<>\  t 

—  shown    even  in  its  most   jealous   i'ienii'.cs  —  v,  inch   she   ha(» 
never  ceased   to  feel  for  him  from   the  first  hour  of  their   ill 
appointed  union. 

And,  sitting  beside  the  window  of  that  rude  hovel,  alone,  in 
the  deep  mazes  of  an  uncultivated  foiest  —  the  savage  almost  at 
her  side  —  a  band  of  outlaws  at  her  feet  —  midnight  gathering, 
vague,  wild,  indistinct,  and  mysterious  around  her:  —  the  play 
mates  of  youth  —  the  friends  of  maturity  —  the  social  and  kind 
ly  world  in  which  she  had  lived  —  all  banished  from  her  sight 

—  all  lost,  and,  probably,  lost  for  ever:  —  still,  she  thought  of 
no  privation  —  she  knew  of  no  loss  —  she  dreamed  of  no  evil  — 
no  —  no  danger  —  nothing  to  make  her  doubt  —  nothing  to  make 
her  dread  —  she  thought  only  of  him  !     Where  was  he  ?     When 
would  he  come?     Was  he  still  true?     Did  he  still  love  her  as 
before  ? 

Could  she  have  found  a  grateful  answer  to  these  questions, 
her  heart  might  have  been  pacified.  She  would  have  asked 
no  other  questions  —  no  other  fortune  from  the  hands  of  Fate. 

Such  is  love  —  that  thing  of  greatest  dependence  —  of  great 
est  strength  and  weakness.  Strong  above  all  powers  for  endu 
rance  —  weak  beyond  all  moral  supports,  when  it  knows  not 
where  to  confide,  and  can  not  command  the  sympathy  which  it 
ever  seeks,  and  without  which  it  is  little  better  than  a  flower 
cast  upon  the  unreturning  waters,  and  borne  with  feeble  strug 
gles  to  the  wide  ocean,  where  it  is  swallowed  up.  Stroffg,  vig 
orous,  climbing,  triumphant,  and  beautiful,  like  the  vine,  when 
the  gigantic  tree  suffers  its  embraces  ;  but  wretched,  sinking, 
and  perishing,  prostrate  upon  the  earth,  when,  throwing  out  its 
tendril-arms  for  the  support  to  which  it  was  destined,  and  with 
out  which  it  can  not  live,  it  grasps  only  the  unsubstantial  air, 
and  perishes  at  last  in  feeble  despondency  upon  the  damp  and 
noisome  ground,  from  which  it  has  ever  sought  to  rise. 

In  the  cold  world  how  many  affections  spread  forth  their  arms, 
seeking,  but  in  vain,  to  clasp  themselves  around  the  rugged  na 
ture  which  they  would  adorn  and  beautify  —  failing  in  this,  that 
perish  upon  the  spot  which  gave  them  birth  but  denied  them 
sustenance  —  putting  forth  no  fruits,  bearing  no  flowers,  yet 
beautiful  while  they  lived  —  so  beMiitiful  in  promise,  that  the 

16 


BORDER    HEAdT.T',-. 

heart  can  not  liclp  but  weep,  for  its  own  sake,  tliat  they  were 
denied  all  fruition. 

The  tears  were  yet  on  the  cheeks  of  Florence,  when  Saxon 
entered  Ihe  apartment.  He  entered  it  unobserved.  Her  face 
was  yet  turned  upon  the  forest;  her  thoughts  were  far  distant; 
and  in  the  absence  of  her  thoughts,  her  present  senses  iiad  be 
come  obtuse,  or  heedless  of  their  duty.  He  strode  firmly,  but 
not  heavily,  over  the  room,  but  she  heard  him  not.  He  stood 
almost  immediately  behind  her,  and-still  she,  turned  not. 

He  stood  awhile  surveying  her  in  silence.  Many  and  chan 
ging  thoughts  seemed  passing  through  his  mind.  His  brow 
darkened  for  an  instant  —  his  hand  was  lifted  in  the  same  time, 
and  seemed  searching  in  his  bosom,  while  a  glance  of  savage 
ferocity  lightened  in  his  eye.  At  that  moment,  a  dee])  sigh 
escaped  from  her  lips,  and  the  expression  passed  from  his  face, 
his  hand  was  withdrawn  from  his  bosom,  and,  placing  it  upon 
her  shoulder,  he  pronounced  her  name.  She  turned,  almost 
with  a  scream  —  an  exclamation,  which  had  in  it  as  much  de 
light  as  surprise  —  and,  rising  from  her  seat,  threw  herself  into 
his  arms  with  fill  the  abandonment  of  joy. 

"Oh,  Edward!  dear  Edward!  it  is  you  —  you  are  come  — 
you  are  come  at  last,  and  I  am  so  happy  !  But  you  have  been 
gone  so  long — so  very  long,  Edward  —  that  I  feared  you  had 
forgotten  me  —  that  you  had  deserted  me  for  ever;  and  my 
heart  sank  within  me,  and  I  have  been  so  miserable,  that  I 
wishe(T*myself  dead  a  thousand  times  —  indeed.  I  did;  for  it 
seemed  to.  me  far  better  to  be  dead,  and  cease.  t<>  feel,  than  to 
have  such  miserable  feelings  as  have  filled  my  heart.  But  you 
are  come  now  —  you  will  now  stay  with  me  a  long  time,  and  I 
shall  be  so  happy." 

While  the  poor  heart-dependant  hung  upon  the  bosom  of  the 
outlaw,  and  poured  forth  these  words  in  a  stream  that  lacked 
emphasis  as  it  lacked  obstruction  —  for  the  sentences  whicb  she 
so  rapidly  uttered  were  spoken  without  the  cessation  of  the 
smallest  pauses  —  his  looks  were  cold,  his  eye  was  aimless,  his 
whole  air  and  manner  were  those  of  a  man  who  could  no  longer 
be  moved  by  anything  that  she  might  say.  His  head  was 
thrown  back  to  avoid  the  flowing  tresses  of  her  hair  which 
brushed  his  face,  and  bis  arms  made  a  slight  moven.ent  to  put 


run    !>!'AT;i    OF    PASSION.  803 

her  from  him.  This  she  felt  —  tins  she  resisted,  and  clung  ta 
him  with  a  firmer  hold  than  before. 

"Do  not  push  me  from  you,  Edward  —  not  yet — not  awhile 

—  let  me  cling  to  you  only  a  little  longer.     I  have  thought 
upon  this  dear  embrace,  and  wept  and  prayed  for  it  so  long, 
that  you  must  vot  deny  it  to  me  now.     Yet  I  will  not  worry 
and  vex  you   with    it.      I  know  you   have  grown   colder  and 
harsher  than  you  were  —  that  you  are  not  so  fond  as  you  used 
to  be  when  we  first  came  to  the  woods.     I  feel  that  —  I   know 
it;  forgive  me  that  I  press  it  upon  you  —  but  remember  1  am 
a   woman,  and    believe   me    that    1    love   you,  0    Edward,  as 
warmly  as  ever,  in  spite  of  all  the   changes  which   I  can   not 
but  see  in  you." 

"It  may  be  so,  Florence  —  it  may  be  so,"  replied  the  other 
coldly. 

"It  may  be  so,  Edward  —  may  be  so!  Can  you  doubt  it  — 
can  you  think  otherwise  for  a  single  moment  1  Have  vou  not 
seen  it  in  all  my  looks  —  have  you  not  felt  it  in  all  my  actions 

—  from  the  first  to  the  last  —  from  that  sweet  —  perhaps,  most 
unhappy  hour,  when  I  believed  all  your  assurances  of  love,  and 
gave  you,  oh,  how  entirely!   all  of  mine — even  to  this,  when 
you   speak  as   if  you  believed  me  not,  and  look,  as  if  you  are 
indifferent  whether  it  is  truth  or  not  which  1  speak  ?      Do  not 
force  me  to  think  this,  dear  Edward  —  do  not,  I  implore  you  — 
unless  you  seek  to  discard  me  —  to  crush  me  quite  —  to  trample 
•me  for  ever  in  the  dust!      I  can  bear  the  world's  scorn  —  nay, 

I  do  not  soe — I  do  not  feel  it!  I  can  bear  anything  —  all 
things  —  denial,  privation,  banishment  from  friends  and  family 
—  burial  in  these  swamps  —  anything,  but  the  conviction  that 
ho,  for  whose  sake  I  am  thus  desolate  —  thus  dependent  —  now 
makes  light  of  the  sacrifice,  and  takes  from  me,  all  at  once,  that 
love  which  1  found  more  than  a  recompense  for  every  loss. 
Turn  not  from  me,  Edward  —  speak  not  —  look  not  so  again 
upon  me;  for,  in  truth,  I  am  very,  very  Wretched  —  I  know 
not  well  why,  unless  it  is  that  I  see  so  little  of  you.  And,  un 
less  you  smile  upon  me  —  unless  you  are  willing  to  let  me  love 
you  when  you  come  to  me  —  I  would  rather  far  that  T  were 
dead — T  would  rather  far  that  you  would  kill  me  with  a  sud 
den  blow  and  end  all  my  sufferings  at  once  The  pang  of  the 


864  BORDKIi  BEAGLES. 

blow,  even  from  your  luunK  given  in  y>  nr  anger,  would  not  be 
half  so  great  a  pang  as  that  which  I  should  suffer,  without  miti 
gation  and  without  cure,  could  I  feel  that  you  were  indifferent 
to  my  love." 

The  imploring  solicitude  of  this  speech  —  the  tender  accents 
—  all  failed  to  move  the  now  cold  heart  of  !h«  outlaw.  He 
suffered  her  hand  to  rest  upon  his  arm  —  but  his  eyes  turned 
away  from  the  large,  tear-filled  orbs,  that  implored  more  elo 
quently  for  his  love,  than  any  of  her  accents.  He  had  nut  yet 
attained  that  recklessness  of  spirit  and  of  conscience  which 
could  enable  him  to  meet  without  shrinking,  the  glance  of  her 
whom  he  was  not  unwilling  to  destroy. 

"  Florence,"  he  replied  —  "  either  I  have,  or  I  have  not  to  go 
elsewhere,  and  be  absent  from  you  long.  If  such  be  the  neces 
sity,  you  have  no  reason  to  complain  of  n\e  ;  and,  if  there  be  no 
such  necessity,  then  there  is  no  policy  in  your  complaint.  In 
deed,  you  will  only  drive  me  away  from  you  by  such  complain 
ings.  I  hate  such  scenes." 

"Edward,"  returned  the  other,  reproachfully. 

He  proceeded  with  an  air  of  dogged  determination,  to  push 
his  new-formed  resolution  to  the  utmost. 

"  The  best  regards  in  the  world  may  become  oppressive. 
There  is  a  season  for  love  as  for  other  things.  When  a  man 
has  reached  the  age  of  thirty,  life  lias  other  businesses  besides 
love.  It  is  surprising  that  you  have  not  discovered  this  truth 
before  —  that  you  should  need  now  to  be  informed,  that,  even 
with  the  most  pliable  men,  there  are  certain  moods  and  dispo 
sitions  of  the  mind  when  love  is  an  intruder,  and  the  embrace 
of  the  most  lovely  woman,  an  annoyance.  I  do  not  profess  to 
be  of  more  tender  stuff  than  other  people,  and  I  confess  to  you 
that  I  hate  very  much  to  be  continually  excruciated  !" 

And  this  was  the  end  of  passion!  —  of  a  passion  that  had 
seemed  more  like  frenzy  than  feeling  —  more  like  the  outpour 
ings  of  a  heart  convulsed  by  its  emotions  into  madness,  than 
the  ebullitions  of  human  hopes,  fears,  and  fancies!  And  this 
was  the  man  who  had  persuaded  Florence  Marbois  to  give 
up  all  —  hope,  honor,  society  —  friends  and  family,  and  fly 
with  him  into  the  wilderness  —  to  share  with  him  his  shame 
&nd  guilt,  his  exposure  and  isolation.  Verily,  there  is  no  sting 


THE    DEATH    OF   PASSION.  365 

—  no   sorrow  —  greater  than  the  wrong  of  the  beloved   one  — 
the  desertion  of  him  in  whom  we  had  jmt  our  bosom's  trust! 

This  was  the  first  time  that  the  unhappy  Florence  had  ever 
been  compelled  to  listen  to  language  so  unequivocal  from  the 
lips  of  her  betrayer.  It  has  been  said  already  that,  up  to  the 
present  moment,  a  sense  of  pity,  rather  than  of  justice,  had  pre 
vented  the  outlaw  from  showing  the  indifference  which  he  felt. 
Hitherto,  he  had  made  an  effort  to  exhibit  a  fondness  which  he 
had  long  since  ceased  to  feel.  A  new  passion  foi  another, 
made  him  anxious  to  cast  off  a  connection  which  had  become 
an  encumbrance  ;  and  the  desire,  which  had  almost  moved  him 
to  the  commission  of  a  more  brutal,  if  not  a  worse  crime  than 
that  of  his  first  wrong  to  the  unhappy  woman  —  if  insufficient 
as  yet  to  reconcile  him  to  her  murder  —  was  quite  active  enough 
to  render  him  unscrupulous  about  the  open  declaration  of  those 
real  feelings  which  he  had  only  successfully  disguised,  because 
of  her  unwillingness  to  behold  and  to  believe  them. 

His  tones  and  language  now,  no  longer  to  be  mistaken,  were 
instantaneous  in  their  effects.  She  started  from  his  side  —  her 
hand  shrunk  from  the  arm  which  it  had  grasped,  as  if  there 
had  been  danger  in  the  conjtact,  and  she  retreated  for  a  few 
paces,  then  stood  with  arms  drooping  at  her  side,  and  her  head 
slightly  bent  toward  him. 

Her  eyes,  no  longer  suffused,  became,  on  a  sudden,  keen,  arid, 
and  burning.  They  shot  forth  an  intense  glare  —  an  expression 
of  mingled  consternation  and  inquiry  ;  and,  when  the}'  encoun 
tered  only  the  cold,  inflexible  gaze  of  one  frun  whom  all  motives 
to  further  deception  were  removed  —  who  now,  perhaps,  rather 
sought  an  occasion  to  declare  the  indifference  which  a  better 
feeling  had  once  made  him  studious  to  conceal  —  it  was  then 
that  they  became  fixed,  as  it  were,  with  a  death-like  distension 
of  orb,  such  as  betokens  the  first  bound  to  madness  of  an  op 
pressed  brain  and  overpowered  reason.  A  brief  space  of  time 
elapsed,  in  which  she  preserved  this  posture  without  speaking 
Her  intensity  of  stare  was  painful  to  the  outlaw,  even  if  he  no 
longer  felt  it  to  be  reproachful;  and  he  advanced,  speaking  as 
he  did  so,  toward  his  unhappy  victim. 

"  Come,  come,  Florence,  i  must  not  suffer  this.  These  arts 
must  no  longer  be  practised  upon  me.  Let  us  understand  each 


3(J6  iiuuDKU   IJKA«;L!'> 


ether.  Let  us  put  an  end  to  these  follies.  V\'e  have  both  of  us 
-ived  too  long  in  the  world,  not  to  feel  the  wear  ami  tear  of  such 
passions  as  these;  and  the  impolicy  of  indulging  them  should 
be  known  to  all  who  have  discovered,  as  I  have  long  since 
done,  that  our  affections  and  sympathies,  to  be  grateful  and 
worth  preserving,  must  not  he  suffered  to  become  tyrannies. 
Do  you  understand  me,  Florence?" 

He  approached  her  as  he  spoke  —  he  made  a  show  of  taking 
her  hand,  but  she  retreated,  drawing  her  anus  behind  her  a^ 
she  did  so,  but  preserving,  at  the  same  time,  the  same  searching 
scrutiny  of  gaze  which  he  had  found  so  painfully  oppressive. 

"No  !  no  !  no  !"  she  exclaimed,  mutteringly,  a  moment  after. 
"  It  can  not  be.  It  was  a  dream.  I  could  have  heard  no  such 
accents  from  his  lips.  It  can  not  be  that  I  am  reserved  for  so 
dreadful  a  punishment.  I  know  that  I  have  done  wrong  —  that 
I  am  guilty  before  man  —  guilty  in  the  sight  of  LLeaven  —  but 
oh  !  not  to  him  !  He  can  not  have  spoken  thus  —  i  will  net  — 
dare  not-  --believe  it  !" 

She  Biased,  her  eye  still  .followed  his,  and,  unwilling  to  en 
dure  its  expression,  he  turned  away  to  the  window  she  had  left. 

A  new  resolve  entered  her  minjj  —  she  darted  rapidly  toward 
him  —  caught  his  wrist  with  a  nervous  grasp,  and  spoke  in  clear, 
soft,  uutremulous  accents  — 

"Edward  —  Edward  Saxon  —  what  was  it  that  you  said  to 
me  but  now  —  not  a  minute  since?  —  Speak!  —  Speak  aloud  — 
let  me  hear  your  words  again,  for  I  feel  that  I  have  not  clearly 
understood  them  —  I  hear  badly,  Edward,  of  late,  and,  unless 
the  words  are  spoken  very  distinctly,  I  am  very  apt  to  misun 
derstand  them." 

"  Florence,  why  do  you  annoy  ine  in  this  way  when  1  c  OKH- 
to  see  yon  ?  You  know  that  I  hate  these  wild  passions  —  these 
tumults  that  produce  no  good,  and  are  without  any  necess'.tv. 
They  trouble  —  they  oppress  me  —  nay,  more,  I  confess  ti;e 
truth  to  you  —  they  make  me  exceedingly  reluctant  to  approach 
you." 

"It  is  true  !  It  is  all  true  !  —  my  ears  did  not  deceive  me  — 
I  heard  it  all  —  all!"  she  exclaimed,  breathing  deeply,  after 
several  protracted  mmiU'tilH  in  which  her  bosom  seemed  not  to 
heave  —  her  lips  gave  forth  not  the  slightest  respiration.  Her 


THE    DKA.ni    UK 

eyes  were  fixed  upon  him  with  a  gaze  of  mingled  horror  and 
surprise,  and,  more  than  once,  as  she  gazed,  her  hands 
were  passed  over  her  brows,  as  if  striving  to  put  aside  some 
obscuring  tresses,  which  were  yet  not  in  the  way.  Well  might 
she  doubt  her  sight,  when  she  could  no  longer  withstand  the 
evidence  of  her  other  senses.  The  now  desolate  and  abandoned 
woman  —  abandoned  by  the  man  for  whom  she  had  lono-  since 
abandoned  virtue  —  had  still  a  hope  that  there  might  be  some 
smile  on  the  lips  of  the  speaker  —  some  expression  in  his  eyes, 
softening,  subduing,  qualifying,  disarming  the  deadly  accents 
which  had  reached  her  from  his  lips. 

But  no!  In  his  cold,  calm  features,  she  beheld  most  truly 
the  hopelessness  of  her  heart.  She  saw  that  she  was  for  ever 
banished  from  those  affections,  in  which  she  deemed  herself 
secure.  The  veil,  with  which  pity  had  striven  for  awhile  to 
hide  from  the  eyes  of  passion  the  fatal  truth,  that  love  had  for 
ever  gone  from  the  shrine  where  he  had  been  worshipped,  was 
ruthlessly  torn  away  ;  and  the  mocking  spectre  alone  remained, 
to  grin  over  the  devotee,  who  had  for  so  long  a  season  bent 
before  its  unholy  and  delusive  features.  The  sin  which  had 
assumed  the  aspects  of  a  power  the  most  commanding  of  all 
others  in  the  heart  of  woman,  having  secured  its  victim,  beyond 
recall  or  recovery,  no  longer  cared  to  preserve  even  its  disguises, 
and  she  stood  alone  in  the  presence  of  the  tempter,  his  veil 
uplighted,  his  scorn  openly  declared. 

Florence  Marbois,  weak  though  she  had  been  at  first,  and 
easy,  like  all  her  sex,  to  be  overcome  where  she  loved,  and 
believed  herself  to  be  beloved,  had  yet  her  strength ;  and  the 
strength  of  woman,  defrauded  of  her  hope,  and  despised  in  her 
affections,  is  no  less  immeasurable  than  fearful."  The  cold  com 
posure  of  the  outlaw's  glance  moved  her  indignation,  and  a  bit 
tor  smile  of  equal  scorn  flushed  the  face  that  a  moment  before 
had  been  of  a  deadly  whiteness. 

"  I  thank  you,  Edward  Saxon  — I  thank  you.  Cruel  as  the 
truth  is  which  you  have  at  last  spoken,  it  is  some  consolation 
that  it  is  the  truth.  You  have  deceived  me  for  a  long  time ; 
and  in  this  practice  my  own  blind  attachment  has  made  the  toil 
of  artifice  an  easy  one.  But  your  looks  tell  me  more  than  your 
language;  and  there  are  other  truths,  yet  unspoken,  which  I 


368  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

need  not  that  you  should  declare.     Edward   Saxon,  you  love 
another ! 

"I  know  it  —  I  feel  it  —  else  why  should  you  now  foiego  the 
deception,  so  long  continued,  and  which  you  found  so  easy  ? 
Why  should  you  teach  me  with  such  effort  —  so  plainly  —  thai 
you  had  ceased  to  love  me,  when  it  cost  so  little  effort  to  per 
suade  me  that  you  did,  and  when  such  a  faith  was  so  grateful 

—  so  essential  —  to  the  poor  heart  that  loved  you?     You  are 
not  naturally  cruel,  why  then  be  guilty  of  so  great  a  cruelty''! 
why  open  my  dreaming  eyes  to  the  loss  of  all  for  which   1    had 
lived  1 

11  There  could  be  but  one  reason  —  but  a  single  motive.  From 
the  moment  that  you  fixed  your  eyes  upon  another,  the  task 
had  become  irksome  of  continuing  those  shows  of  love  to  rne 
on  which  I  have  fed  so  long.  There  was  no  absolute  need  to 
wear  a  mask  any  longer  —  you  had  nothing  to  hope,  and,  in  the 
excess  of  your  power,  you,  perhaps,  felt  assured  that  there  was 
nothing  which  you  had  to  fear. 

"  Perhaps  not !  Edward  Saxon,  you  are  free.  You  shall  hear 
no  further  reproaches  from  Florence  Marbois.  Devote  yourself 
to  the  hapless  woman  whom  you  have  selected  to  fill  my  place. 
You  may  never  discard  her — she  may  never  suffer  -my  wrongs 

—  and  yet,  if  she  is  unlike  me,  perhaps  she  may  avenge  them. 
Enough  —  you  are  free  to  seek  her.     Though  my  heart  with 
ered,  and  my  hope  died,  yet,  I   tell  you,  Edward  Saxon,  they 
should  do  so,  sooner  than  I  would  implore  you  for  the  delay  of 
a  single  instant  ere  you  cast  yourself  into  her  arms  ;  or  for  a 
single  accent  of  reluctant  love,  from  lips  which  have  been  so 
dishonored  as  yours." 

"  Florence,  this  is  a  sort  of  madness  to  which  your  constant 
jealousies  have  long  made  you  liable.  They  have  annoyed  me 
long  enough  —  they  shall  annoy  me  no  longer  —  and  since  you 
so  boldly  declare  yourself— now  learn  from  me,  that  your  con 
jecture  is  true.  There  is  another  —  a  woman,  loveliest  among 
the  lovely  —  you  shall  see  her  —  she  shall  even  dwell  with  you 
here  for  a  season  —  though  I  say  not  that  she  shall  take  your 
place." 

"  Wherefore  not  say  it  ?  Think  not  you  will  offend  me 
further,  Edward  Saxon  —  think  not  you  offend  me  at  all.  I 


NEW    PASSION    FROM    TUK    ASlli:s.  3t)9 

tell  you,  my  heart  lias  survived  the  possibility  of  offence  at 
your  hands.  You  have  wronged  me  too  deeply  to  offend  me. 
T  sec  not  your  scorn  —  I  hear  not  your  accents  of  coldness  and 
cruelty  —  they  are  lost  in  the  overwhelming  conviction  of  the 
injury  which  you  have  done  me.  You  are  a  bold  man,  Edward 
Saxon  —  a  bold,  brave,  bad  man.  I  am  but  a  woman  —  a  frail, 
feeble,  desolate,  abandoned  woman — " 

She  paused. 

"  There  is  something  more,  Florence.  Why  do  you  stop  ? 
Surely  the  comparison  demands  an  inference  —  a  conclusion  — 
a  point.  Shall  it  be  a  sting?" 

She  looked  on  the  speaker,  whose  contemptuous  smile  showed 
how  little  he  valued  the  feelings  which  he  had  so  deeply  out 
raged,  with  a  grave  countenance,  expressing  a  singular  degree 
i)f  composure,  which,  but  for  the  feelings  that  it  really  served  to 
hide,  must  have  been  unnatural;  and  replied  briefly  — 

"It  may  be  so  —  bold,  bad,  reckless  as  you  are,  Edward 
Saxon  —  worthless  as  am  I,  and  feeble  —  God  will  raise  me  up 
an  avenger.  I  may  be  guilty  in  his  sight,  but  it  can  not  be 
that  you,  to  whom  I  owe  it  all,  should  be  suffered  this  double 
triumph  over  me.  There  will  be  an  hour  of  retribution. 
There  must  be  pangs  for  the  betrayer  as  well  as  for  the  be 
trayed  ;  and  I  will  only  pray  that  I  may  live  long  enough  to 
know  that  you  feel  them." 

"  The  prayer  of  the  wicked,  you  know,"  was  the  sneering 
reply  of  the  outlaw.  "  1  could  preach  you  a  sermon  from  that 
text,  Florence,  were  I  in  the  mood,  which  w\mld  be  unctuous 
enough  for  the  orthodox  in  any  congregation  in  Mississippi; 
but  I  spare  you  that,  and  my  further  presence.  I  must  leave 
you  for  a  while.  I  trust  to  find  you  in  a  better  humor  when  I 
bring  you  a  companion." 

"Now,  may  1  have  strength  for  my  vengeance  against  that 
day!"  was  the  exclamation  of  the  discarded  woman,  as  the 
outlaw  left  her ;  and  a  wild,  cruel  resolution  rose  up  in  her 
mind,  as,  brooding  without  sleep  through  the  remainder  of  that 
weary  night,  she  thought  only  and  ever  of  the  woman  —  who 
was  destined  to  take  her  place  in  the  embraces  of  unlawful 
love  —  as  of  a  victim! — the  last  sacrifice  upon  that  altar  of 
passion,  on  which  her  own  virtue  had  been  the  first. 

16* 


370 


BORDF.R    Hi: 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

BXCUSK      FOR     GEX1US  —  HAMLKT      DISCOVERS     THAT      THERE     1* 
EVIL    IN    THE    WORLD  — THE    HEROIXK    AM)    DWARF. 

"I'll  no  more  tender  him, 

Than  had  a  wolf  stoPn  to  my  teat  in  (he  nieht, 
And  robbed  me  of  my  milk."  —  JOHN   WEBSTER. 

SAXON   knew,  in  fact,   but  little  of  the   nature  of   woman. 
Her  heart  was  a  fountain  shut  up,  and  a  book  sealed  to  him. 
He  had  the  arts  which  could  win  —  these,  perhaps,  are  few  and 
not  difficult  of  attainment.     They  may  be  acquired  by  almost 
every  youth   of   tolerable  deportment   and    moderate  common 
sense.     But  those  finer  arts  which  may  secure  the  possession, 
and  make  the  conquest  permanent,  he  did   not  seem  to  possess, 
and,  indeed,  did  not  seem  to  value.     Men  who  are  rapid  in  their 
conquests,  are  not  apt  to  value  them.     "  Easy  won,  easy  lost," 
is  something  of  a   proverb,  which  holds  no  less  good  in  the 
affairs  of  the  heart  than  in  those  of  the  purse.     Had  Saxon 
been  a  more  thorough  examiner  of  that  various  province  —  the 
heart  of  a  woman  who  loves ;  could  he  have  looked  deeply  into 
its  hopes  and    fears  —  its  tumultuous    passions,  and  capricious 
fancies — its   suspicions,  which    grow  naturally   out   of  a   just 
feeling  of  its  dependence  upon  that  arbitrary  lord  whom  it  is 
born  to  serve  and  must  suspect  —  and  which  make  it  a  thing  all 
watchfulness  and  jealousy  ;  he  would  have  known  that  there 
was  no  object  in  nature  so  sensitive  —  no  object  so  perfectly 
fearful  —  when  touclied  rudely  by  reproach,  or  mocked  by  indif 
ference  and  scorn.     Perhaps,  had  he  not  grown  too  indifferent 
to  the  possession,  he  would  have  been  more  considerate  of  the 
claims  of  that  affection  which  he  once  sought  with  avidity,  and 
which  was  never  more  truly  and  devotedly  his  than  at  the  very 


EXCUSE    FUU    GEXIUS.  Oil 

moment  when  lie  encountered  it  with  a  contumely  as  reckless 
a?,  it  was  undeserved. 

He  little  knew  the  fierce  and  uncontrollable  spirit  which  he 
roused  in  the  bosom  of  Florence  Marbois  during  the  brief  inter 
view  which  has  been  just  recorded.  She  might  have  forgiven 
the  neglect  which  was  only  suspected  —  she  might  have  forgot 
ten  the  partial  inattention  of  his  regards,  so  long  as  he  still  re 
turned,  and  while  his  lips  still  yielded,  however  unfaithfully, 
some  vague  assurances  of  his  attachment.  But  when  he  boldly 
declared  his  defection  —  when  the  vain  beauty  was  taught  to 
know  that  there  was  a  more  highly  esteemed  beauty,  set  up  as 
her  rival ;  — when  the  devoted  heart  was  rudely  thrust  from  the 
altar,  where  its  tendrils  were  still  resolute  to  cling — when  love 
could  no  longer  doubt  its  desertion  —  it  was  then  that  another 
and  a  wilder  nature,  rose  up,  gloomy  and  terrible,  within  her 
soul. 

Some  glimpses  of  this  nature  had  been  shown  the  outlaw  a 
moment  ere  their  parting,  but  he  had  not  seen  them.  These 
had  been  the  outbreaking  of  a  spirit  which  could  not  altogether 
be  suppressed  ;  but  its  language  was  beyond  his  comprehension. 
He  had  heard  so  many  upbraidings  from  the  lips  of  the  neglect 
ed  woman  that  his  ear  had  grown  obtuse  to  their  true  significa 
tion.  He  confounded  the  vindictive  muttenngs  of  a  passion 
which  was  scorned,  with  the  tender  reproaches  of  a  heart  which 
was  still  allowed  to  hope.  Having  denied  hope,  having  tram 
pled  upon  love,  having  cast  faith  and  feeling  from  his  consider 
tion  —  he  should  have  known  that  Hate  would  be  the  deit> 
most  likely  to  be  raised  upon  their  ruins,  by  the  spirit  which. lit 
had  so  rudely  driven  from  all  communion  with  his  own. 

There  is  quite  as  little  wisdom  as  virtue  in  injustice.  Per 
haps  it  may  be  affirmed,  with  equal  truth  and  certainty,  that  h 
,  is  also  without  cunning.  The  wholesomest  moral  prudence  if 
truth  and  good  faith.  Good  faith  in  all  human  relations.  Had 
Saxon  not  been  blinded  by  his  resolution  to  do  wrong,  he  musl 
have  seen,  in  the  keen  yet  composed  glance  of  the  woman  —  iis 
her  deliberate  accents  —  in  her  slow,  cold,  resolved  manner  — 
that  a  sudden  and  singular  change. had  come  over  all  her  feel- 
ip<?R  in  the  moment  when  he  made  his  open  avowal  of  injustice. 

iiei    temper,  passionate   and   deep,   earnest  and   gushing  — 


872  HORDE II    BKAf.LES. 

overflowing  in  its  fullness,  and  always  warm  in  its  expression  in 
all  ordinary  cases  of  excitement  —  was  now,  when  the  occasion 
became  one,  perhaps,  of  the  greatest  and  most  painful  provoca 
tion  suddenly  subdued  —  almost  frigid  —  an  embodiment,  in  mar 
ble,  of  lofty  elevation  and  dignified  indifference.  The  change 
in  character  should  have  occasioned  surprise ;  and  reflection 
should  have  taught  the  outlaw,  that  the  woman  he  had  wronged 
had  become  an  object  of  apprehension.  But  he  had  none.  He 
was  too  glad  of  an  occasion  to  shake  off  bonds  which  had  be 
come  irksome,  to  see  that,  in  doing  so,  he  had  incurred  the  re 
sentment  of  a  heart  which  could  be  as  dangerous  as  it  had  been 
devoted.  This  sudden  obtusencss  of  intellect  may  be  accounted 
an  essential  part  of  that  blindness  and  madness  to  which  the 
gods  deliver  over  those  whom  they  have  previously  determined 
to  destroy. 

Florence  Marbois  watched  at  her  window  while  the  night 
faded  away  ;  yet  she  seemed  utterly  unconscious  of  its  passing 
hours.  She  was  unconscious  of  all  things  around  her.  Her 
heart  was  changed  within  her,  and  bitter  thoughts  and  enven 
omed  resolutions  were  growing  up,  and  taking  the  place  of  those 
which,  but  a  short  time  before,  had  been  only  those  of  tender 
ness  and  love.  The  cruel  iron  of  desertion,  and  the  sharp  steel 
of  scorn,  had  entered  deeply  into  her  soul,  and  left  nothing  but 
rankling  irritation  where  they  went.  Desolation  she  had  en 
dured  for  him  —  but  desertion  by  him  was  unendurable;  and 
wild,  vague,  changing,  but  always  hostile  measures  presented 
themselves  to  her  mind,  as  she  brooded,  in  the  darkness  and 
stillness  of  the  night,  over  her  wrongs,  and  the  bitter-sweet  hope 
which  she  indulged  of  redressing  them. 

"  There  are  means,"  she  murmured  at  intervals,  "  there  must 
be  means  everywhere  provided  to  humble  the  oppressor  —  to  re 
vcnge  the  injured.  I  am  weak  —  I  am  woman  —  but  God  has 
not  left  me  utterly  helpless,  if  he  has  made  me  destitute.  I 
know  that  I  can  have  my  revenge  —  I  know  that  I  can  strike 
—  that  I  can  triumph  ;  —  and  here — here  in  the  darkness  of  this 
liour,  and  in  the  presence  of  such  spirits  of  evil  or  of  good  —  1 
care  not  which — as  travel  the  eternal  realms  of  space,  I  sweai 
tlia',  sleeping  or  waking,  my  prayer,  my  dream,  my  desire  — 
my  >nly  study,  as  it  is  u.y  only  Lope --shall  be  in  what  way 


EXCUSE   FOR  GENIUS,  873 

to  ievcngc  my  wrong; -—to  bring  this  proud,  insolent  man  to  tho 
flu.it —  to  deprive  him  of  those  joys  of  which  he  has  for  ever 
deprived  me  !" 

By  what  means  she  hoped  to  effect  her  object,  may  not  even 
be  conjectured  in  this  early  stage  of  her  resolution  ;  but  no  one 
could  have  hearkened  to  the  tone  of  her  accents,  or  beheld  tho 
fixed  expression  of  decision  in  her  eyes,  and  reject  the  comic- 
tion  that  she  was  as  solemnly  sworn  to  her  revenge,  ;n>  if  the 
demons  of  the  air  whom  she  invoked  as  witnesses,  had  received 
and  registered  the  oath.  They  did  so ;  and  it  may  be  that, 
ministers  of  justice,  no  less  than  of  evil,  they  wrought  in  behalf 
of  the  deserted  leman  of  the  outlaw,  when  the  ordinary  powers 
of  society  would  have  failed,  and  the  laws  would  still  have  been, 
as  they  had  ever  been  before,  objects  of  scorn  and  mockeiy  to 
the  reckless  spirit  who  had  so  long  held  them  in  deiiance.  Hut 
let  us  not  anticipate. 

In  leaving  her  that  night,  Saxon  also  left  the  encampment  to 
which  had  been  given  the  ambitious  title  of  Cane  Castle.  An 
other  brief  conference  with  his  coadjutor,  Jones  —  that  dexterous 
agent,  who  had  so  successfully  entrapped  and  deceived  the  un 
wary  actor  —  by  which  he  was  provided  with  final  instructions 
for  the  future  disposition  of  that  unconscious  worthy;  and  then 
the  outlaw  sped  off  io  those  other  performances,  which  have 
been  already  narrated,  and  which  ended  in  the  arrest  of  Harry 
Vernon. 

The  next  day  rose  upon  Horsey,  still  as  Hamlet.  The  grave 
habit  of  the  prince  of  Denmark -was  that  which,  in  all  his  ward 
robe,  came  nearest  to  the  guise  of  a  simple  citizen  ;  and  half 
reconciled  to  the  costume  in  character,  from  a  pleasant  convic 
tion  which  the  flatteries  of  Jones  encouraged,  that  he  looked  a 
marvellous  proper  man  in  it,  the  worthy  actor  renewed  the  search 
after  his  ordinary  garments  with  something  more  of  equanimity 
than  he  had  shown  on  the  preceding  night.  Still,  he  did  not 
hesitate  to  speak  of  the  robbery  in  proper  terms. 

"The  mere  loss  of  the  clothes  is  nothing,  Jones,"  said  he 
"  but  that  we  have  thieves  in  the  company  is  most  shocking. 
There  must  be  a  stir  about  it  —  the  rogue  must  be  found  rut, 
fcnd.  we  must  purge  ourselves  of  the  connection  as  soon  as  possi- 


374  r.ORDKR    RF.AOI.FS. 

bio.      Our  profession  is  OTIC   quite  too   noble  for  any  such  com 
mnnion." 

Jones  fully  agreed  with  him  that  it  was  shocking  indeed  ;  hut 
suggested  the  difficulty  of  finding  out  the  thief,  and  the  awk 
wardness  of  any  direct  inquiries.  It  was  agreed  upon,  that 
their  conduct  was  to  be  governed  by  circumstances;  and,  mean 
while,  a  sharp  look-out  was  to  be  maintained  upon  the  move 
ments  of  all  suspicious  persons;  —  Jones  confessing  that  there 
were  some  two  or  three  of  the  company  whom  he  really  believed 
to  be  no  better  than  they  should  be. 

"  Now,  that  bull-headed  fellow,  Bull,  I  take  to  be  one  of  these 
suspicious  persons,"  said  the  actor,  remembering  the  annoyances 
of  the  previous  night ;  "  a  fellow  that  gets  drunk  and  makes  a 
beast  of  himself,  will  be  very  apt  to  steal.  Don't  you  think  so, 
Jones?" 

"  I  do,"  replied  the  other,  very  courteously.  "  As  a  general 
rule,  Mr.  Horsey,  a  drunkard  is  bad  enough  to  be  a  thief;  but 
there  are  exceptions  to  all  general  rules,  and  Bull  is  one  of  them 
He's  a  genius,  Mr.  Horsey,  as  I  said  before  —  an  immense  genius 
You  may  see  nothing  of  it  for  some  days;  but  he'll  break  out 
at  last,  and  overwhelm  you.  He's  the  very  impersonation  of 
fun,  farce,  and  frolic." 

"But  the  heroine,  Jones  —  sha'n't  I  have  a  talk  with  her  to 
day  1  It's  strange  that  all  your  first-rates  should  be  so  eccen 
tric." 

"Natural  enough — they  all  know  their  value.  You  would 
not  think  it  strange,  when  you  know  them  as  I  do,  and  know 
the  extent  of  their  popularity." 

"And  what  do  you  call  her  —  what's  her  name?" 

"Her  name?  —  oh,  yes  —  her  name's  Clifford  —  Mrs.  Clifford 

—  Mrs.  Ellen  Clifford  —  she's  married,  you  know  I  told   you, 
and  —  another  reason  why  you  should  be  cautious  in  approach 
ing  her,  and  why  she  should  be  devilish  shy  of  all  third  persons 

—  her  husband's  worse  than  a  Turk  for  jealousy.     He  flame* 
up,  like  a  rocket,  on  the  smallest  occasions.     Nay,  it  is  said  lie 
gave  a  poor  fellow  three  inches  of  his  bowie-knife  in  Natciiy, 
for  praising  her  beauty   off  the   stage.      You   see   she's  very 
beautiful." 

"What  a  d d  fool.     E^ad,  I'd  like  no  better  fun  than  in.-n 


EXCUSE    FOR    GENIUS.  375 

to  plague  such  a  fellow  ;  am!  if  you  had  no  other  reason  thai) 
his  jealousy  to  keep  me  from  looking  her  up,  I'd  be  at  her  in 
twenty  minutes.  Can't  you  get  me  a  chance  to  talk  with  her. 
I'd  like  to  see  what  sort  of  stuff  she's  made  of." 

"  Time  enough  to-morrow.  Let  us  go  now  and  see  after  the 
boys.  We  have  a  boat  here  on  the  bayou  —  a  little  dug-out  — 
and,  if  you  say  so,  we'll  take  our  fishing  tackle,  and  get  some 
fish.  Fishing  here  is  our  most  profitable  idleness,  as,  indeed,  it 
is  everywhere  else ;  and,  if  you  like  it  half  so  much  as  I  do, 
you  will  not  think  much  of  the  manager's  absence." 

"  But  my  Hamlet !"  exclaimed  the  actor,  looking  at  the  costly 
garment.  "  Such  a  dress  as  this,  Jones,  won't  do  for  every  day. 

The  d d  strange-looking  green  and  yellow  mud  of  tin's  river 

—  the  water,  if  I'm  splashed  —  will  pla-y  the  very  d — 1  with  my 
Hamlet." 

"  Won't  splash  you,"  said  Jones,  hurrying  along.  "  I'm  like 
a  bird  in  a  boat  —  can't  be  said  to  dip  a  wing,  even  when  I  take 
my  fish.  I  handle  a  dugout,  Mr.  Horsey  —  not  to  compare  low 
things  to  high  —  with  almost  as  much  grace  as  you  do  the  foils 
in  Hamlet.  But  come  on  —  fear  nothing,  and  if  we  get  no  fish, 
why,  you  can  give  us  the  grave  scene,  which  shall  make  our 
time  pass  with  less  gravity." 

The  last  suggestion  was  the  finishing  stroke,  and  Horsey  fol 
lowed  without  further  opposition,  though  not  without  sundry 
misgivings  that  his  sables  might  suffer  some  hurts  much  too  se 
rious  for  any  smoothing  or  stitching,  even  from  hands  so  white 
and  dextrous  as  those  of  Mary  Clayton.  Many  a  compunctious 
glance  did  he  give  to  his  inexpressibles  as  he  went  forward,  fol 
lowing  his  cunning  confederate  through  bog,  bush,  and  brier, 
uctil  they  reached  the  muddy  mouth  of  the  narrow  creek  where 
lay  the  egg-like  skiff  which  was  to  bear  the  twain  to  the  main 
trunk  of  the  Chitta-Loosa. 

Here  they  embarked  in  the  trembling  fabric,. the  heart  of 
Horsey  rising  to  his  throat,  with  every  roll  and  reel  of  the  frail 
vessel;  while  his  eyes,  drawn  by  a  natural  attraction  to  the 
banks,  surveyed,  with  momently  increasing  disquiet,  the  yellow 
ish  slime  upon  their  surface  ;  the  soft  nwry  ooze  of  which  seemed 
for  all  the  world  as  if  it  were  intended  to  receive  with  cios«? 
embrace  and  a  most  yielding  compliamM1,  the  pressure  of  any 


876  BORDER   BEAGLES,  «, 

dfMT-Iict  i.v»dy.  tlic  \\-Mif  or  tribute  of  the  slow  and  turbid  rivel 
which  had  left  it  where  it  lay. 

But  that  which  disturbed  the  composure  of  the  actor  had  no 
effect  upon  his  companion.  His  muscular  arms  sent  the  little 
dug-out  through  the  narrow  passage  with  a  dexterity  no  less 
prompt  than  fearless,  and  Horsey  had  not  drawn  a  second 
breath  before  the  boat  quivered  upon  its  centre,  and  hung  sus 
pended  for  a  moment  in  its  course,  as,  leaving  the  sluggish  ca 
nal  through  which  it  had  emerged,  it  felt  the  downward  rush  of 
the  main  current,  in  its  restless  passage  to  the  Mississippi. 

Florence  Marbois,  as  soon  as  she  discovered  that  Jones  had 
left  the  island  —  a  knowledge  obtained  without  difficulty  by  one 
who  was  so  well  served  as  the  lady  in  question  —  immediately 
went  forth  from  her  little  habitation  to  a  spot,  the  path  to  which 
seemed  familiar,  where  she  found  the  dwarf  Stillyards  busy 
mending  his  nets.  He  stood  up  as  he  beheld  her,  with  an  air 
of  deference  in  his  manner  which  he  was  not  wont  to  show  to 
all  other  persons. 

"  Richard,"  she  said,  "  I  have  need  of  you  again  :  are  you 
ready  ?" 

"Soon  will  be,  ma'am  —  have  nothing  to  do  but  tie  a  feM 
threads,  and  lay  a  draw-cord  through  the  end-loops  of  the  net. 
This  hole  here  would  let  a  dozen  jacks  through  ;  and  there's 
not  a  suckfish  in  Big  Black  that  wouldn't  laugh  at  this  for 
gill-tackle." 

"Richard,"  continued  the  lady,  in  tones  at  once  of  command 
and  entreaty,  "  put  by  your  net  for  the  present,  I  would  speak 
with  you." 

The  foot  of  the  dwarf  turned  the  net  over  a  low  bush ;  his 
hands  would  have  done  it  more  effectually,  but  his  vanity  was 
unwilling  tliat  he  should  stoop,  in  the  sight  of  a  lady,  to  a 
performance  in  which  his  physical  deformities  became  only  the 
more  conspicuous.  His  manner  the  while  was  that  of  the  most 
respectful  deference.  He  declared  himself  ready  at  that  instant 
to  obey  her  commands,  and  made  some  rude  assurances  of  his 
great  willingness  at  all  times  to  do  her  service. 

"  I  know  it,  Richard— *•  I  know  that  you  have  always  served 
me  faithfully  —  and  believe  that  you  will  continue  to  do  so  in 
this,  probably  the  last  task  which  1  shall  ever  give  you  again." 


THE    HEROINI-:    AND    DW.MJF.  377 

"Ma'am  !      Hcli  —  what  ?" 

She  did  not  seem  to  hoed  the  interruption  or  the  exclaina 
tion  but  proceeded  : — 

"  You  have  kept  my  secrets,  Richard,  and  always  made,  I 
have  good  reason  to  believe,  a  faithful  report  of  what  you  saw. 
Here  is  some  money  for  you.  It  is  more  than  I  promised  you, 
but  not  more  than  you  deserve,  and  not  near  so  much  as  you 
shall  have  when  you  have  done  for  me  another  service,  and,  as 
I  said,  most  probably  the  last." 

"  The  last,  ma'am  ?" 

"  Yes,  Richard,  my  fears  will  soon  be  at  an  end,"  replied  the 
lady ;  "  she  should  surely  cease  to  fear  who  has  at  length 
ceased  to  hope." 

The  dwarf  looked  up,  wondering  more  at  the  looks  and 
accents  of  the  speaker,  than  at  the  words  she  littered.  She 
continued  : — 

"  Did  you  knoAV  that  Saxon  Mras  here  last  night  ?" 

He  nodded  assent. 

"He  went  before  daylight,"  continued  the  lady.  "He  went 
from  me  for  ever.  We  are  no  longer  one  —  we  are  parted — 
parted  for  ever." 

The  dwarf  grinned,  but  not  with  any  pleasure.  The  expres 
sion  of  his  face  was  that  of  good-natured  incredulity. 

"You  smile  —  you  believe  me  not,  Richard." 

"Ah,  Ma'am  Florence,  how  can  I  believe  you?  you  know 
how  often  you've  said  the  same  thing — every  time  you've  sent 
me  to  look  after  him." 

A  faint  smile  passed  over  the  lady's  lips  as  she  listened. 

"  You  are  only  right  to  doubt,  Richard.  I  have,  indeed,  too 
often  spoken  only,  when  I  should  have  performed.  I  will  not 
seek  now,  by  any  new  assurances,  to  make  you  believe  my  pres 
ent  resolution.  Whether  you  believe  or  not  —  whether  Ac  be 
lieves —  is  of  little  importance  to  either  of  us  now.  But  there's 
some  difference  of  circumstances,  Richard,  of  which  you  may 
have  no  knowledge.  Hitherto,  I  may  have  done  him  wrong 
by  my  suspicions  —  now  I  can  do  him  none.  Last  night  he 
told  me  that  he  loved  another." 

"He!" 

"Ay,  he!   Edward  Saxon,  for  \\hoin  I  gave  up  all  —  friends. 


378  BORDER    RKAGLKS. 

family,  good  life,  good  name  —  hope,  truth,  and  innocence!  He 
has  forgotten  the  sacrifice,  which,  indeed,  I  too  had  forgotten 
so  long  as  he  loved  me.  But  that  is  over,  and  I  am  now  lost  to 
him  as  I  have  been  so  long  lost  to  all.  I  have  nothing  now 
left  me  but  to  die." 

"  Nothing,  Ma'am  Florence,  nothing  !     Sure — " 

"Ay,  there  is  something,  Richard  —  there  is  something  moro. 
It  is  a  woman's  feeling  Richard,  to  desire  some  knowledge  of 
her  rival  —  to  desire  to  see  her,  to  know  if  she  is  beautiful,  to 
hear  her  speak,  and  hearken  if  her  accents  be  sweet ;  and,  per 
haps —  but  I  need  not  say  more  of  this  to  you,  Richard." 

"  Oh,  yes,  Ma'am  Florence  —  I  beg  you  do." 

"  No,  no  !".  was  the  rather  stern  reply.  "  It  needs  not.  It 
was  only  of  another  feeling  —  they  call  it  a  woman's  feeling  too 
—  that  I  would  have  spoken  —  that  I  would  gratify.  But  here 
it  shall  remain  —  secret  from  you  —  secret  from  all  —  doubly 
sweet  to  myself  that  it  is  so  secret! — untill  the  blessed  day 
which  shall  enable  me  to  realize  my  last  hope  —  the  hope  of — " 

The  word  was  unspoken,  but  the  vindictive  gleaming  of  the 
the  eye,  and  the  convulsive  quiver  of  her  lips  while  she  shut 
them  together,  as  if  to  prevent  utterance,  were  sufficiently  con 
clusive  that  "  revenge"  was  the  only  word  which  could  have 
properly  finished  the  sentence.  Her  heart  heaved  with  the 
suppressed  secret  —  her  hand  was  clenched,  and  for  a  moment 
she  stood  gazing  on  the  dwarf  with  an  expression  of  face  which 
almost  startled  him  with  a  feeling  of  personal  apprehension. 

"  Richard,  you  must  follow  Saxon  —  once  more  you  must  fol 
low  him.  Find  out  where  he  goes  —  whom  he  seeks.  Look 
not  on  her  —  so  that  you  may  not  be  won  by  her  beauty  also  to 
betray  the  poor  Florence  —  then  come  to  me  —  come  back  and 
get  your  reward.  You  shall  have  money  and  jewels  —  all  the 
jewels  and  money  that  I  have,  Richard — they  will  almost 
make  you  rich  ;  but  you  must  be  sure  to  tell  me  where  he  hides 
her,  when  he  brings  her  here  —  and  how  soon  I  may  look  upon 
the  woman  whose  feet  have  trodden  upon  my  heart.  Go !  let 
me  hear  your  horse's  tread  immediately.  Away,  Richard  ! 
Sleep  not  as  you  go  —  God  be  with  me  and  strengthen  me,  for 
well  I  know  I  shall  never  sleep  till  you  return  —  even  if  J  sleep 
then.  Away !" 


THE    APE    CHAFKS   THE   TIGER.  370 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

THE    APE    CHAFES    THE    TIGER  —  A    SNARE    AM)    A    Sf 

"I  do  pronounce  him  in  that  very  shape 
He  shall  appear  in  proof." — Henry  VIII. 

THE  dwarf  listened  to  the  commands  of  Ins  mistress,  and 
prepared  to  obey  them.  He  had  been  accustomed  t<>  do  so; 
indeed,  it  may  as  well  be  stated  in  this  place,  that  Richard 
Stillyards,  as  he  was  called,  was  rather  an  attendant  of  Flor 
ence  Marbois,  than  of  the  outlaw  by  whom  she  was  betrayed. 
What  were  the  particular  circumstances  by  which  he  became 
bound  to  her  service,  may  not  here  be  known  ;  but  it  has  been 
seen  that  there  were  events  and  performances  by  which  she 
had  deserved  his  gratitude;  and  his  devotion  to  her  service 
showed  that  he  was  not  unwilling  to  give  it.  He  had  been 
faithful  to  her  for  a  long  period  ;  obeying  her  slightest  and 
her  strangest  behest;  ministering,  perhaps  harmfully  «t  times, 
to  her  jealousies  of  the  outlaw,  though  without  seeking  to 
encourage  them  ;  for  Stillyards,  so  far,  had  been  able  to 
discover  no  single  instance  of  a  departure  from  his  pledged 
faith  to  his  leman  on  the  part  of  Edward  Saxon ;  and  he 
now  regarded  the  bitter  rather  than  the  angry  mood  of  his 
mistress,  by  which  she  declared  her  renewed  suspicions,  as  be 
ing  equally  without  foundation  with  all  which  she  had  enter 
tained  before. 

But  though  he  assured  her  of  this  conviction,  his  assurances 
were  made  in  vain ;  and  he  was  sagacious  enough  to  perceive 
that  her  present  disquiet  was  of  a  character  which  she  had  not 
before  exhibited.  Hitherto,  she  had  shown  a  vague  jealousy 
—  a  general  but  uncertain  suspicion  —of  the  truth  of  one  upon 
whom  she  felt  she  had  none  of  those.  Isolds  >vhich  can  alone  be 


ROTIDER    REAr.LES. 

found  in  n  compliance  with  the  est.-iblishc-d  b>,ws  of  virtue  ajul 
Bociety.  There  was  liostility  now,  and  bate,  mingled  with  her 
suspicions ;  and  the  very  calmness  which  overspread  her  fea 
tures,  and  which  regulated  and  made  deliberate  the  tremulous 
accents  of  her  voice  as  she  spoke,  convinced  him  that,  whether 
she  had  or  had  not  occasion  for  her  anger,  it  was  yet  of  a  kind 
to  prove  dangerous. 

Stilly ards  was  not  so  bound  to  Florence  Marbois,  as  to  lend 
himself  to  all  her  purposes;  as  to  become  the  mere  tool  and 
agent  of  a  rash  and  improvident  vengeance;  and  while  'ic 
prepared,  without  scruple,  to  set  forth  in  obedience  to  her  com 
mands,  he  half-resolved  that  Saxon  should  have  warning  tlua 
his  mistress  was  no  longer  to  be  trifled  with.  Still,  with  r. 
partial  curiosity,  he  resolved  first  to  disc-over,  if  he  could, 
whether  the  outlaw  was  really  unfaithful  to  his  vows  —  an  ass">- 
tion  made  with  so  much  solemnity  now,  by  the  deserted  woman 
as  to  impress  itself  upon  his  mind  with  some  force,  in  spite  <>f 
liis  constant  conviction  heretofore,  that  she  had  but  little  reason 
for  complaint.  His  purpose  was  to  counsel  the  outlaw,  if  sui-h 
were  the  case,  to  greater  prudence  in  his  declarations  and  pro 
ceedings  ;  and,  tickling  his  own  vanity  with  the  patronizing  idea 
of  being  an  adviser  to  the  master  beagle  of  the  band,  he  saw 
but  little  harm  in  practising  a  like  unfaithfulness  with  his  master 
toward  the  mistress  whom  he  served. 

These  resolutions  passed  through  his  mind  as  he  proceeded 
upon  his  mission.  He  soon  got  upon  the  track  of  the  outlaw, 
and  followed  him  to  Lucchesa,  where  he  arrived  in  time  to 
become  privy  to  the  position  of  Vcrnon  in  the  houpe  of  Mr. 
Wilson,  and  that  of  Saxon  in  reference  to  his  daughter.  He 
was  soon  convinced  that  the  story  of  Florence  was  not  without 
foundation.  For  the  first  time,  he  beheld  the  reckless  outlaw 
ii!  the  character  of  a  devoted,  if  not  a.  sighing  lover.  He  saw 
that  the  affair  was  rapidly  advancing  to  a  close,  and  on  the 
afternoon  of  the  day  when  Vernon  was  hurried  from  his  mistress 
by  the  self-created  officers  of  justice,  he  availed  himself  of  an 
opportunity  to  emerge  from  his  cover  and  present  himself  boldly 
before  the  outlaw. 

The  place  chosen  for  this  revelation,  was  a  thick  copse  in 
the  very  wood  in  which  the  final  scene  had  taken  place  between 


THE    APE   CHAFES   THE   TIGER.  381 

Vernon  and  the  maiden.  To  this  copse  Saxon  had  retired  after 
he  had  witnessed  the  successful  termination  of  one  portion  of 
his  projects.  Stillyards  had  been  equally  fortunate  in  behold 
ing  the*  events  which  we  have  already  described,  and  he  was, 
therefore,  very  well  able  to  speak  home  upon  the  subject. 
While  Saxon,  seated  upon  a  fallen  poplar,  was  busy  chewing 
the  cud  of  various  thought  —  thought  no  less  perplexing  in  some 
respects  than  it  was  exulting  in  others;  and  while  his  eyes, 
fixed  upon  the  ground,  saw  no  image  but  that  drawn  by  his 
amorous  fancy  upon  the  warm  glass  of  his  affections,  lie  was 
suddenly  and  unpleasantly  startled  into  a  new  splic»rc  of  exist 
ence  by  the  abrupt  appearance  of  the  dwarf  at  his  side. 

"  How  now,  sirrah  !  —  What  make  you  here  ?"  lie  demanded 
in  harshest  accents,  as  he  beheld  the  intruder.  With  a  grin  of 
equal  consequence  and  humility  the  dwarf  replied : — 

"  She  sent  me  —  she's  heard  it,  sir  —  heard  it  all  —  knows  all 
about  it,  sir,  and  it's  only  right,  sir,  you  should  know  it  won't 
do  to  vex  her;  she's  angry  as  a  tiger-cat  —  looks  as  if  she 
could  bite  and  do  a  great  deal  of  mischief;  and  though  she 
don't  say,  yet  I  can  see,  and  I  thought  it  only  right  to  let  you 
know,  and  to  warn  you,  sir  —  there's  danger  —  danger  in  her 
eye — " 

"What  the  devil  do  you  mean,  fool?"  demanded  the  outlaw, 
with  an  impatience  momently  increasing,  as  he  beheld  the  air* 
of  self-esteem  which  now  distinguished  the  manner  of  the 
speaker. 

"  Fool !"  cried  the  other,  with  a  vexatious  diminution  of  his 
importance  ;  "  fool !  Not  so  great  a  fool  neither,  if  you  knew 
all." 

"All!  —  what  all?  What  is  it  that  your  sagacious  head  car 
ries,  that  it  is  fitting  I  should  know  ?  Speak  out,  booby,  and 
leave  off  your  damnable  faces." 

This  startling,  and  most  humiliating  reception, .  effectual])' 
turned  the  sweet  milk  of  the  dwarfs  disposition,  and  a  burning 
sentiment  of  indignation  in  his  bosom,  made  him  wish  he  had 
left  things  to  themselves,  confined  himself  to  the  old  system  of 
espionage,  and  suffered  the  revengeful  mood  of  his  mistress  to 
work  its  own  way,  without  offering  any  obstructions  to  its 
progress.  It  was  necessary,  however,  that  he  should  now 


speak,  and  to  sonic  purpose,  in  order  to  account  for  that  obtru 
sion  of  his  ungainly  person,  upon  the  secrecy  of  one  who 
seemed  in  such  excellent  temper  to  resent  it.  It  may  readily 
be  conjectured  that  wliat  he  did  say,  in  the  momentary  con 
fusion  of  his  thoughts  from  such  a  reception,  was  scarcely  satis 
factory. 

"You  don't  know,  perhaps,  sir*  that  she  sent  me.'* 

"Pshaw!  you  are  a  spy  upon  my  actions  —  you  have  long 
been  so,  booby.  Do  you  think  me  ignorant  of  that  ?  Her  folly 
and  your  stupidity  have  taught  me  this  long  ago ;  and,  but  that 
you  could  do  me  no  harm,  and  that  I  care  as  little  for  your 
cunning  as  for  her  jealousy,  I  had  stretched  yon  out  straightcr 
with  a  bullet  than  you  have  ever  been  able  to  stretch  yourself. 
Begone,  fool  —  she  is  no  less  a  fool  that  sends  you.  Cross  my 
path  —  lurk  about  my  footsteps  —  let  me  but  catch  a  glance  of 
your  monkey  visage  again  where  it  should  not.  be,  and  I  silence 
you  for  ever.  Begone  !  —  But  —  remember  !" 

With  these  words  the  outlaw  rose,  and  seizing  the  dwarf  by 
the  ears,  sunk  his  finger-nail  into  the  flesh  until  the  blood  oozed 
out  from  the  wound,  then  flung  him  from  him  with  a  force  tl'iit 
needed  not  the  additional  impetus  given  by  his  foot,  which  v>  as 
yet  applied  with  no  qualified  energy. 

The  violence  of  the  effort  flung  the  deformed  upon  the 
ground,  from  which  he  sprang  to  his  feet  with  the  agility  of  a 
tiger.  He  turned  upon  his  assailant  —  his  eyes  glared  with  the 
vindictive  and  unreflecting  rage  of  the  same  animal  —  and  his 
unarmed  fingers  were  extend*  1,  as  if  endued  with  an  instinct 
)f  their  own,  to  grapple  with  the  foe. 

But  the  eye  of  the  outlaw  quelled  the  inferior,  and  a  pistol 
which  he  drew  from  his  bosom,  effectually  counselled  him  to 
increase  the  distance  between  them.  Slowly  he  sank  from 
sight  into  the  neighboring  woods,  from  which,  however,  he  did 
not  then  depart.  The  watch  which  he  had  hitherto  kept  over 
the  movements  of  the  outlaw,  on  account  of  his  mistress,  v,  as 
now  maintained  on  his  own  account.  The  malice  vhich  is  the 
fruit  of  outraged  self-esteem,  is  that  which  is  the  last  to  forgive 
its  victim;  and  when  Stilly ards  crept  into  the  woods,  it  was 
with  the  stealthy  mood  of  the  wild  beast  to  which  we  have 
already  likened  him  —  the  appetite  which  never  knows  repose 


THK    APE    CHAFES    T1JK     ilCKll.  383 

until   it    gorges  the   full   feast   from   the  very   lifeblood   of   its 
prey. 

Saxon  had  some  lurking  doubts  that  he  had  provoked  an 
evil  spirit  irrto  activity,  and  though  his  apprehensions  were  kept 
down  by  that  scorn  of  the  feeble  and  deformed  whicli  the  strong 
and  proud  are  very  apt  to  feel,  yet  a  momentary  conviction  of 
the  necessity  of  curbing  or  crushing  such  a  spirit  in  the  begin 
ning,  persuaded  him,  the  moment  that  Stillyards  had  disap 
peared  from  sight,  to  pursue  him. 

This  he  did,  but  without  effect.  His  search  was  fruitier. 
A  creature  so  active  as  the  dwarf,  who  could  crouch  with  so 
little  effort,  and  conceal  himself  in  places  into  which  other  men 
could  not  penetrate,  could  not  well  be  discovered,  unless  with 
his  own  consent ;  and  hopeless  of  a  search  which  was  no  less 
tiresome  than  fruitless,  he  left  his  unprofitable  quest  in  the 
prosecution  of  others  far  more  attractive. 

That  evening,  Saxon,  who  had  sundry  agents  at  work,  suc 
ceeded  in  getting  Mr.  Wilson  to  the  hotel,  and  safely  seating 
him,  with  three  others,  at  a  game  of  whist.  Without  knowing 
the  history  of  this  unfortunate  gentleman,  which  would  have 
given  the  outlaw  a  very  desirable  power  over  him,  the  latter 
had  yet  been  able  to  discover  that  leading  passion  of  the  other, 
which  had  led  him  from  folly  to  excess,  and  from  excess,  by  a 
very  common  transition,  to  crime.  He  saw,  in  the  eager  anxiety 
of  the  stranger  when  engaged  at  cards,  in  his  flushed  cheek, 
fitful  eye,  and  tremulous  impatience,  the  peculiar  material  out 
of  which  the  devoted  gamester  is  made.  That  passion  for 
small  risks  —  that  pleasure  in  a  hope  of  gain  that  rises  up  into 
a  feverish  sentiment  in  spite  of  every  defeat,  and  goes  on 
renewing  itself  day  after  day,  till  the  very  dregs  of  moral  life 
are  reached,  and  the  carcass  becomes  a  thing  of  spasmodic  and 
convulsive  action,  without  stability  or  strength  —  was  there, 
preying  upon  and  predominant  in  the  soul  of  Wilson,  and  re 
newing  those  bonds  of  slavishness  and  sin,  under  the  coercive 
trammels  of  which  he  had  sunk,  first  into  the  debtor,  and  next 
into  the  felon  —  from  deep  to  deep  —  until  but  one  more  gulf — 
the  closing  covering  gulf  of  all  remained  —  yielding  him  refuse 
and  utter  ruin  at  the  same  moment  in  its  unrelaxing  jaws. 

It  was  not  long  before  Wilson  surrendered  himself  up  to  the 


BOKDEK    BEAGLES. 


game;  and  when  his  tens,  twenties,  and  hundreds  lay,  upon  thf 
board,  and  when  his  hands  touched  the  cards  with  a  tremulous- 
ness  that  betrayed  all  the  reviving  passions  of  his  feeble  nature, 
leaving  him  no  thought  of  other  objects  or  relations,  Saxon 
stole  away  from  the  company,  unseen  by  any  but  the  lynx-eyed 
dwarf,  who,  himself  unobserved,  was  now  a  far  more  devoted 
spy  upon  the  actions  of  his  master  than  he  had  ever  shown 
himself  before.  His  own  bitter  hostility  was  now  his  prompter 
in  addition  to  the  jealousy  of  his  mistress;  and,  he  half  forgot, 
in  pursuing  his  own  malice,  that  he  had  pledged  himself  ',<»  any 
other  service.  He  followed  the  outlaw  from  the  threshold,  and 
was  the  master  of  all  his  movements. 

But  a  brief  space  had  elapsed  after  the  departure  of  Saxon, 
when  a  billet  was  put  into  the  hands  of  Virginia  Wilson.  She 
was  sitting,  sad  and  sleepless,  keeping  a  watch  doubly  lonesome 
and  apprehensive  in  the  absence  of  her  father,  to  whose  errors 
she  could  not  be  altogether  blind,  in  the  stillness  and  silp.nce  of 
her  chamber.  The  younger  sister  already  slept  in  the  couch 
beside  which  she  sat,  and  her  own  loneliness  grew  more  oppres 
sive  to  her  heart  as  she  listened  to  the  sweet,  equal  respiration 
from  her  lips  —  the  breathing  of  that  undisturbed  sleep  of  inno 
cence  and  youth,  ere  care  has  deemed  it  worthy  of  a  blow,  or 
defeated  hope,  and  anxious  affection,  brought  restlessness  and 
wakefulness  to  its  hours  of  repose. 

How  she  envied  the  child  that  sleep.  How  she  wihhed  she 
could  forget  —  that  she  could  close  her  mind  as  easily  as  she 
could  close  her  eyes,  to  the  apprehensions  which  beset  her  soul 
in  reference  to  the  fortunes  of  him,  who  already  occupied  so 
large  a  place  in  its  interests  and  being.  The  billet  which  was 
brought  her,  came  from  him.  That  assurance  aroused  her. 
She  seized  it  with  trembling  hands  and  breathless  anxiety 
She  carried  it  to  the  light  and  read  :  — 

"I  am  free,  dearest  Virginia  —  but  a  fugitive.  I  dare  not 
show  myself  at  your  dwelling.  I  dare  not,  at  this  moment, 
show  myself  to  any  but  to  you.  Will  you  come  to  me  —  though 
tor  an  instant  only.  Come  to  me,  if  you  love  me  —  if  you  have 
faith  in  my  love  —  if  you  believe  in  my  innocence  —  if  you 
would  make  me  happy  at  a  time  when  I  am  inost  miserable  — 


A     SXAIIK    AND    L    SUIUMUSK.  3Sj 

meet  me  by  the  fallen  pine  —  under  those  old  gro\cs  —  in  the 
clear  sweet  walks  which  have  been  already  consecrated  to  our 
hearts  by  moments  which  were  too  blissful  to  have  been  so  brief. 
I  wait  for  you,  dearest  Virginia  —  my  heart  trembles  with  im 
patient  hope.  "  VERNON." 

Vernon  would  not  have  written  such  a  letter ;  but  Virginia 
Wilson  was  no  critic.  Her  own  feelings  were  too  quick,  too 
azuve,  too  excited,  to  suffer  her  judgment  to  examine  the  c»  «oi.o 
calmly.  Her  heart  beat  with  new  emotions.  What  could  be 
his  present  danger  ?  Why  should  he  be  a  fugitive  ?  Was  he, 
in  truth,  a  murderer  —  could  he  have  slain  his  friend  by  acci 
dent  ?  She  had  his  OAvn  assurances  that  he  had  not  done  so, 
and  she  believed  them.  But  there  was  still  a  mystery,  and 
doubts,  to  the  heart  that  loves,  are  agonies. 

There  was  but  one  mode  to  escape  them  ;  and  though  not  in 
sensible  to  the  awkwardness  of  a  situation  which  in  ordinary 
cases  would  seem  to  be  an  impropriety,  she  determined  on  giv 
ing  him  the  meeting  which  he  craved.  Leaving  or  entering  her 
chamber,  she  had  been  accustomed  to  kiss  her  sister. 

The  custom  was  a  sweet  one.  They  had  been  almost  the 
all  in  all,  and  the  only,  to  each  other.  Nevertheless,  there  were 
circumstances  and  causes,  which,  in  spite  of  the  real  tenderness 
of  the  father,  made  Virginia  not  unfrequently  feel  that  they 
were  almost  fatherless  also ;  and  now,  when  bending  over  the 
sleeping  girl,  and  pressing  her  lips  gently  upon  her  cheek,  the 
tears,  few  but  big,  fell  from  her  eyes,  and  trembled  upon  the 
forehead  of  the  sleeper,  like  dew-drops,  in  a  summer  moonlight 
beading  the  soft  crimson  of  the  half-opening  flower. 

But  tears,  though  not  unseemly  on  the  cheeks  of  so  fair  a 
blossom,  yet  appeared  to  the  mind  of  Virginia  as  of  evil  on: en. 
She  kissed  them  off  with  the  haste  of  a  maternal  anxiety,  \\\\t\ 
hurried  from  the  chamber.  There  was  none  to  obstruct  he/ 
departure,  for  the  indulgence  of  her  father  had  left  her  the  roin- 
plcte  mistress  of  his  household.  She  hurried  by  the  garden 
pale,  the  forest  groves  were  soon  reached  —  the  well  kis;nvii 
shadows  of  old  trees  surrounded  her,  and  now  the  fallen  pine 
tree  appears,  and  she  stands  in  the  presence  of — Edward 
Saxon ! 


30BDE11   BEAGLES. 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

TH»<     BEAGLE    CARRIES     OFF     THE     DOVE HAMLET     TIRES     »>F 

YOUICK FLIGHT THE    SMILE    AND    DAGGER. 

"The  innocency  lost, 
The  bating  of  affection  soon  will  follow." — BEN  JONSON. 

THOUGH  the  shadows  were  thick  around  her,  and  the  evening 
light  of  the  moon  imperfect,  the  keen  eyes  of  love  soon  discov 
ered  the  difference  between  the  man  she  met  and  him  whom 
she  expected.  She  recoiled  with  a  natural  emotion  of  surprise, 
but  did  not  feel  any  suspicions  that  the  appearance  of  Saxon  in 
that  spot  was  the  result  of  any  sinister  design.  He  might  be 
the  trusted  friend  of  Vernon  on  this  occasion,  as  he  had  always 
appeared  hitherto  —  but  where  was  Vernon.  She  looked  round 
anxiously,  but  without  a  single  doubt  of  his  near  neighborhood, 
until  the  outlaw  approached  and  addressed  her : — 

"You  look  for  Mr.  Vernon,  Miss  Wilson  —  but  I  come  from 
him.  He  has  told  me  all  —  I  am  his  friend — he  has  sent  me 
to  bring  you  to  him." 

"  But  where  is  he,  sir  ?  He  should  have  met  me  here  —  heie 
—  it  was  so  written  in  the  note." 

"  Did  not  the  note  also  tell  you,  Miss  Wilson,  that  he  is  a 
fugitive  1  He  has  need,  let  me  assure  you,  of  every  precaution 
He  is  in  danger  —  he  dare  not  show  himself." 

"You  alarm  me,  sir.  What  may  this  mean  —  what  IB  bis 
danger ?" 

"He  has  escaped  from  the  officers — they  are  even  now  m 
pursuit  of  him  !" 

"Escaped!  — Can  it  be?  But  why  should  he  escape,  if  in 
nocent  ?  —  Why  ?  But  he  is  here  !  —  Here  !  At  hand  —  within 
hearing.  You  are  his  friend  — and  I !  —  What  can  he  fear  from 
me? — Why  should  he  riot  come  forward?  My  voice  shall  re- 


TflK    liKAuLK    CAUUli^S    OL-T    1HK    DUVK. 

assure  him  —  when  he  hears  me,  he  will  know  that  there  is  no 
danger  here.  Vernon  !  Vernon  !" 

Twice  she  called  aloud,  and  waited  for  the  answering  sounds 
that  she  desired.  But  her  summons  was  made  in  vain.  A  faint 
echo  of  her  own  accents  alone  reached  her  ears.  The  outlaw 
stood  patiently  and  smiled,  but  did  not  speak  until  her  eyes 
were  turned  inquiringly  upon  him  again. 

"  He  does  not  hear  you,  Miss  Wilson  —  lie  can  not  hear  you 
at  this  distance  ;  yet  il  is  not  far  where  he  hides.  I  can  guide 
you  to  the  spot  in  a  few  minutes." 

"  And  why  should  lie  not  come  here,  Mr.  Saxon  ?  Who,  he- 
side  ourselves,  know  that  he  is  near  us?  —  But,  perhaps,  yon 
can  tell  me  more,  but  you  will  not.  He  has  been  pursued  —  he 
is  hurt  —  wounded  in  escaping  !  —  Speak,  sir  —  speak  —  fear  not 
my  strength  —  I  can  listen  —  I  can  bear  it  all." 

"  You  have  guessed  rightly,  Miss  Wilson,  though  1  feared  to 
tell  you,"  replied  the  outlaw,  promptly  availing  himself  of  the 
suggestion  which  her  fears  had  made  ;  "  he  is  hurt,  but  not  se 
riously —  he  awaits  you  at  a  little  distance,  and  I  am  ready  to 
guide  you  to  him." 

There  was  a  moment's  hesitation  about  the  maiden  ;  not  that 
she  doubted  as  to  what  should  be  her  duty  —  not  that  she  had 
any  doubt  of  the  truth  of  Saxon's  narrative ;  but  the  requisi 
tion  had  been  so  sudden,  the  event  so  unexpected,  which  re 
quired  her  presence,  that  her  sense  of  propriety  had  been 
startled  —  her  thoughts  were  all  in  confusion.  The  wily  out 
law  conjectured  the  true  state  of  her  feelings. 

"  Am  I  to  think  you  indifferent  to  his  fate,  Miss  Wilson  1  His 
hurts  require  —  " 

"Indifferent!  Oh,  no  !  no!  no! — but  these  woods  look  so 
wild  —  and  you,  Mr.  Saxon,  are  a  stranger." 

"  But  if  he  confides,  Miss  Wilson." 

"  It  should  be  —  it  is  enough  for  me.  I  will  confide  also  1 
will  go  with  you.  Lead  me  to  him,  Mr.  Saxon,  I  have  no  scru 
ples  now." 

He  took  her  arm  within  his  own,  and  led  her  along  a  little 
Indian  foot-trail,  which  carried  them  over  the  hill,  and  still 
deeper  into  the  shadows  of  the  forest.  The  heart  of  Virginia 
Wilson  beat  with  momently  rising,  but  unexpressed  emotions 


A'J!M)K»    BKAfJLES. 

as  the  \vay  I  ccair.e  more  intricate,  and  as  she  perceived  (hat 
every  slop  can  led  her  still  farther  from  the  cottage.  Still  she 
went  on,  anxiously  expecting  to  hear  the  sounds  of  that  voice 
which  :alone  could  reassure  her.  But  the  woods  were  silent, 
and  the  only  murmur  which  reached  her  cars,  was  that  of  8 
melancholy  pilgrim,  the  wind,  pursuing  his  sleepless  way  among 
the  branches.  At  length  they  emerged  into  a  little  opening 
r.id  Saxon  paused,  as  if  to  listen. 

"  Is  he  not  here,  Mr.  Saxon  ?     We  are  far  from  the  cottage." 

"Not  here  —  a  few  steps  farther;"  and  he  would  have  ad 
vanced,  as  he  spoke,  to  a  dark  and  dense  grove  in  front  of  them, 
hut  the  maiden  hung  hack.  There  was  something  in  the  re 
serve  of  Saxon  —  something  in  his  manner  —  which  made  her  re 
luctant  *.•»  commit  herself  longer  to  his  charge,  and  inclined  her  to 
regret  that  she  had  already  trusted  him.  Besides,  the  reflection 
was  so  natural  to  a  mind  conscious  of  its  own  good  faith,  why 
had  he  deceived  her,  when  she  had  declared  her  willingness  to 
go  with  him  ?  They  had  now  been  walking  full  fifteen  minutesi 
yet  saw  no  signs  of  the  person  who  had  been  described  as  im 
mediately  at  hand. 

"I  will  go  no  farther,  sir — I  dare  not.  If  Mr.  Vcrnon  be 
not  within  hearing  now,  I  can  advance  no  farther.  I  am  afraid 
I  have  already  erred  in  leaving  home." 

"  It  is  too  late  now  to  think  of  this,  Virginia,  too  late  to  re 
tieat,"  exclaimed  the  outlaw,  throwing  off  his  disguises,  and 
grasping  her  wrist  firmly  as  he  spoke — "  you  must  go  with  me." 

"Ha,  sir  !  —  will  you  dare  ?" 

"  Ay,  much,  everything,  where  I  love,  where  there  is  a  prize 
to  be  won  so  lovely  as  yourself.  You  must  go  with  me  —  you 
must  be  mine,  Virginia." 

As  he  spoke,  his  arms  encircled  her  waist,  and  she  felt  hei  • 
*  elf  lifted  from  the  ground. 

"Monster  —  villain  —  release  me!"  screamed  the  maiden, 
with  a  voice  of  equal  indignation  and  terror  —  "  Vernon  !  Ver- 
non  !  come  to  me  !  Save  me  !" 

"You  scream  in  vain,  Virginia.  I  have  deceived  you.  Ver 
non  is  not  near  —  not  within  hearing  —  the  billet  which  brought 
you  to  my  arms  was  a  forged  one.  But  be  not  angry.  You 
have  foand  a  lover  A\!IO  will  be  no  k-ss  true  —  no  less  devoted 


TITR  TU:ACH.K  CAIJIM:-:-  OFF  tut:   ;«-n-. 

than  himself — one  who  is  no  less  willing,  and    far  ir.ore  «• 
serve  you  with  his  love.     The  life  of  Vcrnon  is  forfeit  t,')  the 
laws/5 

"  God  help  me  !  God  help  him  !  Villain  !  I  believe  you 
not.  He  will  soon  be  here.  He  will  follow  —  he  will  save  me 
Beware  of  his  anger  and  his  vengeance  !" 

"  Ah  !  Virginia,  if  you  but  knew  how  little  I  regard  thesv- 
thro.'itenings,  and  of  how  little  value  they  really  are,  yon  would 
surely  forbear  them.  Why  should  you  thus  afflict  yourself  and 
me.  I  suffer  only  as  I  see  you  give  yourself  fatigue  and  pain. 
Your  screams  are  idle.  In  these  pathless  forests,  there  is  none 
to  hear  you,  unless  it  be  the  wild  cat,  who,  if  the  humor  suits, 
will  give  you  scream  for  scream." 

"Yes,  villain  —  there  are  others  nigh  to  save  me.  Men  are 
nigh.  I  hear  the  tread  of  a  horse  —  I  hear  the  voices  of  men. 
They  come  —  they  come!  It  is  \einon —  it  is  my  father. 
They  come  to  save  me.  They  will  avenge  this  insult.  Set 
me  down,  and  fly  !  Do  this  !  Release  me  on  the  instant,  and 
I  will  tell  them  nothing  of  the  outrage." 

The  outlaw  laughed  aloud  as  he  listened  to  this  language. 

"The  men  you  hear  are  those  whom  I  have  commanded  here 
to  assist  me.  The  horses  they  bring  will  help  to  bear  us  away 
together.  They  will  carry  us,  sweet  Virginia,  to  a  place  of 
retreat  which  neither  father  nor  lover  can  find  out.  Do  you 
hear  that  sound?  —  it  is  that  of  the  beagle;  when  I  have  an 
swered  it  in  like  manner,  they  will  be  here.  Hark  !" 

And,  as  he  finished,  the  outlaw  replied  to  the  signal  in  a 
clear,  ringing  note,  which  rose  triumphant  even  above  the  pier 
cing  shriek  of  despair  and  terror  with  which  she  accompanied 
it.  In  a  few  moments  after,  the  agents  of  the  outlaw,  guided 
i>y  his  answer,  approached  the  spot  where  the  maiden,  stii! 
struggling  and  shrieking,  was  held  by  the  firm  grasp  of  the  rav- 
isher.  His  assistants  were  three  in  number.  One  was  mounted 
—  the  other  two  on  foot. 

"  Where  is  the  jersey  ?"  demanded  the  outlaw. 

"On  the  edge  of  the  wood  —  we  couldn't  get  it  through  the 
brush,"  was  the  answer. 

"Enough  —  lead  the  way." 

"  Shall  I  help  you,  captain  ?" 


390  BORDER    BEAGUJS 

"No,  ,io  !  Clear  the  way  only  !"  replied  tlse  powerful  mffian. 
lifting  the  maiden,  while  he  spoke,  as  if  she  were  a  child,  and 
bearing  her  forward,  indifferent  alike  to  screams  and  struggles, 
threats  and  entreaties,  until  he  reached  the  spot  where  the  ve 
hicle  had  been  left.  Into  this  she  was  placed,  with  all  tender 
ness,  but  no  little  difficulty,  and  leaping  in  beside  her,  Saxon 
secured -her  within  bis  arms,  while  one  of  his  emissaries,  occu 
pying  the  front  seat,  assumed  the  office  of  Jehu  on  the  occasion, 
and  drove  off  with  as  reckless  and  rapid  a  speed  as  ever  did 
that  renowned  whip  of  ancient  days. 

Their  course  was  for  Cane  Castle,  in  the  swamp  of  Chitta- 
Loosa.  They  drove  round  Lucchesa,  avoiding  the  thoroughfare 
with  some  caution  at  the  first.  After  a  little  while  they  turned 
into  it,  and  before  midnight  the  carriage  came  to  a  halt  with  the 
thickening  ooze  of  the  swamp  plashing  clammily  about  its 
wheels.  Before  this  time,  exhaustion  had  come  to  the  relief  of 
the  unhappy  maiden,  and  when  she  was  lifted  from  the  vehicle 
ohe  was  in  a  state  of  utter  unconsciousness  and  stupor.  Jones, 
the  wary  coadjutor  of  the  outlaw,  was  at  hand  ready  to  receive 
him. 

"  Well,  Jones,  we  are  here  in  safety,  and  all  is  as  we  could 
wish  it.  What  of  Florence  ?  We  must  have  her  help  here." 

"Can  you  think  of  it,  sir?"  demanded  the  other,  with  some 
astonishment.  "  Can  you  hope  for  such  a  thing  from  her?" 

"  Ay,  this  or  anything,  as  I  please,  my  good  fellow.  I  com 
mand  her  —  she  is  mine  —  my  slave,  as  thoroughly  bound  to 
my  service  as  if  the  bond  were  written  with  her  blood.  Tier 
love  for  me  —  the  very  passion  which  works  her  jealousy  to 
madness  —  is  my  best  security  for  her  devoticr  and  her  service. 
Think  nothing  of  her  grumbling,  Jones  —  I  have  heard  it  too 
often  to  hearken  to  it  now.  A  kind  word  —  a  soothing  entreaty 
—  and  all's  over.  She  will  forgive  the  rival,  when  she  can 
share  the  conquest." 

"  I  hardly  think  it,  sir,  with  Florence.  There's  something  I 
don't  like  in  her  eyes,  and  the  way  she  speaks.  She's  changed 
very  much  these  three  days." 

"Jones,  you're  a  fool.  Yon  know  nothing  of  women,  my 
good  fellow,  or  you'd  not  give  yourself  such  troublesome  no 
tions*  certainly  you  would  not  aTiiicf  me  with  them.  Florence 


TT?F    RFACI.F    fr.viUir.FS    OFF    THE    DOVR.  U 

is  not  different  from  nil  the  vest.  She  will  1m vo  her  own  \v;iv 
if  she  can,  and  when  she  finds  that  impossible,  she  will  content 
herself  with  all  that  you  are  willing  to  allow  her." 

"But  the  two  in  the  same  house  !"  said  Jones,  in  a  tone  of 
further  expostulation. 

"And  with  one  man  between  'em!"  continued  the  outlaw, 
with  a  laugh.  "  But  let  this  not  trouble  you,  Jones.  They 
shall  be  kept  apart.  There's  the  squatter's  cabin  by  the  Little 
Bend  —  to  that  I  will  carry  Virginia.  Florence  shall  see  her 
there  —  she  will  need  some  assistance." 

"  Better  keep  them  entirely  apart.  If  the  young  lady  needs 
help  —  female  help  —  there's  Brown  Bess,  you  know.*' 

"  What,  is  she  here  —  and  Yarbers?     How's  this?" 

"  Your  orders,  I  hear.  There's  a  warrant  out  against  John 
Yarbers  from  old  Badger.  Ned  Mabry's  sworn  against  him 
about  that  horse  business." 

"  True,  true  — I  had  forgotten  that.  Bess  is  the  very  person 
to  be  with  her.  Let  us  have  help  now,  Jones,  so  that  we  may 
carry  her  safely  through  the  swamp.  The  river's  rising — is  it 
not?" 

"Considerably  —  there  must  have  been  a  heavy  fell  of  rain 
among  the  V.ls  above." 

"And  wh*     did  Yarbers  arrive  ?" 

"  It's  been  tour  days  now,  and  better.    He  got  in  on  Monday." 

"  Not  pursued  ?" 

"  Not  that  he  told  me." 

"Cane  Castle  must  look  a  little  livelier  than  ever;  —  and 
how  does  your  Shaksperean  reconcile  himself  to  his  bondage  ? 
What  of  the  actor-fellow  —  have  you  been  able  to  keep  up  the 
ball  1" 

There  was  some  hesitation  in  the  reply  of  Jones,  and  his  ac 
cents  were  those  of  a  man  conscious,  perhaps  of  some  fault  of 
commission  or  neglect. 

"  I'm  sorry  to  say,  sir — he's  off." 

"  Off!     How  off!     You  don't  mean  to  say  escaped,  liehf 

"Fact,  sir  —  and  how,  there's  no  saying  at  present.  I  had 
him  well  watched,  as  I  thought." 

The  tidings  had  the  effect  of  making  the  outlaw  instantly 
grave.  His  accents  became  stern. 


392  BORDER    BEAULKS. 

"Tins  is  M  bad  business,  .Tones.  C.'ui  HUMT  !.c  traitors  among 
us?  Another  Hurdis  affair !  This  must  be  seen  to,  man.  We 

are  not  secure  an  instant  if  we  can  not  see  our  prisoner.  But 
you  pursued  —  you  have  beagles  on  the  track?  What  have 
you  done?  how  was  it?  Speak!  By  heavens,  you  arc  a  dul 
ler  fellow  than  I  counted  you." 

"I  can  really  say  nothing,  sir,  as  to  the  manner  of  the 
escape.  The  chap  was  safe  enough  so  late  as  this  morning." 

"  The  d — 1,  and  so  he  got  off  in  broad  daylight  ?" 

Jones  gave  a  mortified  assent,  and  was  compelled  to  submit 
in  silence  to  the  severe  upbraidings  of  his  principal,  whose  re 
proaches  did  not  lack  sarcasm  to  heighten  their  severity. 

"  By  heavens,  Jones,  but  I  thought  you  more  of  a  man  than 
this  speaks  for.  With  five  active  fellows  in  the  swamp  —  all 
at  your  summons  —  with  nothing  to  do  but  this  —  you  suffer 
yourself  to  sleep  in  your  watch,  and  neglect  everything.  Did 
the  fellow  go  off  on  foot?" 

Here  Jones  was  compelled  to  make  another  confession,  which 
completed  the  story  of  his  inefficient  watch.  Horsey  had  con 
trived  to  resume  possession  of  old  Bowline  —  his  worthy  father's 
venerable  "  Dot-and-go-onc." 

"Worse  and  worse !"  exclaimed  the  other.  "  '.  ;  ore's  treach 
ery  somewhere.  We  must  sift  the  matter  ch  -  .y.  Yarbers, 
you  say,  is  here  —  his  wife  and  daughter.  Ha  !  Jones  —  that 
woman  — that  wife  of  his  —  Brown  Bess  is  at  the  bottom  of  it 
all.  She  is  shameless  enough  to  be  more  honest  than  her  hus 
band,  and  will  no  doubt  think  it  a  moral  duty  to  hang  us  all  if 
she  can,  and  him,  for  distinction  sake,  at  the  head  of  the  string. 
Well  —  we  must  use  her  now.  Away,  and  let  Yarbers  bring 
her  to  Little  Bend  at  once.  I  will  meet  you  at  Cane  Castle  in 
half  an  hour.  Say  nothing  to  Florence  of  my  arrival  —  nay,  do 
you  avoid  seeing  her.  I  will  tell  her  all  myself.  Away  !" 

But  Florence  had  not  been  left  uninformed  on  any  of  these 
subjects.  She  had,  as  we  have  seen,  her  own  emissaries  at 
work,  and  the  dwarf  had  not  only  beheld  the  transfer  of  the 
captive  maiden  from  the  wagon  to  the  squatter's  house  at  Little 
Bend,  but  he  had  listened  to  every  word  of  the  dialogue  be 
tween  the  outlaw  and  his  agent,  which  had  accompanied  and 
followed  her  removal,  and  which  we  have  endeavored,  in  the 


THE  BEAGLE  CARRIES  OFF  THE  DOVE.        393 

preceding  passages,  to  abridge  to  Y)i3r  limits.  He  delivered  his 
information  to  his  jealous  mistress  some  time  before  Saxon  made 
his  appearance. 

"  She's  here,"  said  he  to  Florence,  as  he  stood  suddenly  be 
fore  her  where  she  sat  in  the  gloom  and  silence  of  that  lonely 
chamber,  looking  out  upon  the  solemn  swamp.  It  was  in  the 
same  chamber  that  we  found  her  first,  when  far  other  thoughts 
filled  her  mind,  and  far  other  feelings  dwelt  in  her  bosom,  than 
those  which  rule  over  them  now  —  making  the  one  wild  and  the 
other  wretched.  She  started  as  she  heard  his  accents  —  she 
rose  from  her  chair  and  approached  him. 

"  You  do  not  say  it,  Richard  !"  she  said,  with  a  solemn  treni- 
ulousness  of  accent.  "  You  do  not  tell  me  that  she  is  indeed 
here  —  that  he  has  dared  !" 

The  dwarf  nodded  his  head  ere  he  spoke,  then  answered 
tier  : — 

"At  the  squatter's  old  cabin,  by  the  Little  Bend." 

"So  near!"  was  the  exclamation  of  the  unhappy  Florence, 
as  she  walked  to  the  window  and  looked  out  —  though,  through 
the  dense  woods,  her  eyes  could  distinguish  nothing — in  the 
direction  of  the  designated  hovel.  She  turned  again,  after  lin 
gering  a  moment,  and  approached  the  emissary. 

"Richard  —  you  have  served  me  faithfully,  and  one  of  the 
last  acts  of  my  life  shall  be  to  reward  yon.  But  tell  me  —  have 
you  seen  her  ?  Is  she  so  very  beautiful  ?" 

"  Very  beautiful,  they  say  —  though  I  don't  care  much  to  see 
beautiful  people,  and  didn't  look  much  at  her." 

"  But  you  saw  her  ?" 

"Couldn't  help  it  —  saw  her  a'most  everyday  since  I  left 
you.  I  always  followed  him,  and  he  went  to  her  every  day, 
and  they  walked  out  sometimes  in  the  woods." 

"Ha!  ha!  They  walked  out  in  the  woods,  did  they?  and 
she  is  very  fond  of  him,  I  suppose  ?  They  are  well  matched 
—  very  well  matched  —  a  loving  couple,  Richard?  Did  you 
not  think  them  so?  But,  do  not  answer  me  now.  Go,  Rich 
ard —  leave  me  now  —  I  would  rather  be  alone." 

"Look  you,  ma'am  —  there's  one  thing,"  said  the  dwarf,  lin 
gering,  "  if  you  think  this  strange  gal's  fond  of  Saxon,  you're 
altogether  out.  Sho  ain't  fond  of  him,  no  how.  She  don't  like 

17* 


394  BORDER 

iiim.     lie  pr.t  her  in  the  jar.M'y  l<v  main  force,  and  she  sc 
and  made  a  mighty  fuss." 

"  TTa  !  Is  this  true?"  demanded  Florence,  with  considerably 
interest. 

"  P'int-blank  truth.  I  saw  her  fighting  him,  and  you  might 
hear  her  screech  for  more  than  a  mile  —  that  you  might  —  afoic 
she  fainted." 

"  What !  —  she  fainted  ?" 

"  Died  off',  like  'twas  all  over  with  her,  and  didn't  move  agin 
t'll  they  lifted  her  to  carry  her  to  the  squatter's  house." 

"Richard,  are  you  sure  of  this?  Speak  nothing  but  the 
truth  —  you  know  not  how  much  depends  on  this!"  said  Flor 
ence,  with  solemnity. 

"  I'll  take  hihle-oath  to  it,  ma'am  !  I'll  kiss  the  book  to  it. 
There's  no  mistake  in  me  this  time,  I  tell  you." 

"Enough!"  she  said,  waving  him,  with  her  hand,  to  depart. 
"Enough!  I  thank  you,  Richard — I  will  reward  you  in  the 
morning.  Leave  me  now." 

When  he  had  gone,  she  returned  to  the  window. 

"This  makes  a  difference,"  she  said,  musingly  —  "a  great 
difference.  If  true,  she  is  already  a  wretched  victim,  and  no 
hlow  of  mine  would  do  her  harm.  Yet,  even  if  she  be  a  willing 
creature  of  his  lust — if  lie  find  in  her,  what  he  found  in  me  — 
;\  weak  heart,  a  yielding  nature,  a  confiding  faith  —  that  loved 
blindly  and  weakly,  and  was  lost,  before  it  became  conscious 
that  there  was  anything  to  lose  —  still,  why  should  she  be  the 
victim  even  then?  She  knows  not  that  she  wrongs  another  — 
she  does  not  —  but  he  —  he  who  knows  all  —  who  wilfully 
wrongs,  and  scornfully  defies,  he  —  but  he  is  here  —  it  is  he 
\vlio  should  feel  the  blow.  It  is  his  heart,  and  his  only,  which 
my  hand  should  strike.  And  it  shall  strike  !  I  am  sworn  to 
this!  Lost!  —  an  outcast  from  all  hope,  all  life,  all  love — 1 
am  not  so  base,  so  worthless,  or  so  weak,  that  I  can  not  strike 
for  vengeance  !  No  !  Edward  Saxon,  you  have  dared  to  scorn 
the  heart  which  you  once  implored  —  to  insult  that  womauK 
pride  which  you  once  solicited!  —  and  yet,  it  lives — it  live:* 
to  strengthen  my  arm  and  resolution  —  it  lives,  and  will  not 
cease  to  live,  until  you  are  humbled  in  the  dust  !  For  this  tri- 
imph,  and  in  this  Isope.  I  live  only  !  Besides  this,  what  is  there 


THE    OUTLAW    AND    HIS    VICTIM.  o 

ID  life  to  live  for  now  ;  —  and  when  he  tails,  there  is  nofliitg 
then  that  I  shall  even  care  to  hate !  God  of  heaven,  how 
strange  it  is  to  me  now,  that  I  once  should  have  loved  this  man 
—  and  so  loved  him  —  he,  who  stood  over  me  but  a  few  clays 
ago,  and  mocked  me  with  the  story  of  his  devotion  to  another, 
and  bade  me  do  her  bidding,  and  commanded  me  not  as  a  slave 
only,  but  as  a  slave  whom  he  despised  !  Ha!  —  it  is  his  foot 
step —  he  comes  —  he  comes  to  renew  his  mockery!  I  should 
not  meet  him  unprepared  !" 

She  went,  as  she  spoke,  to  a  little  dressing-case,  and,  lifting 
the  upper  compartment,  drew  from  beneath  it  a  small  silver- 
hiked  dagger,  which  she  concealed  in  her  bosom,  then,  turning 
to  the  entrance  of  the  chamber,  encountered  her  betrayer  with 
a  smile. 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 

THE    OUTLAW    AND    HIS   VICTIM A    TRAGEDY    SCENE A    BLOW 

—  A    DISAPPOINTMENT. 

"  Observe  this  creature-  here,  my  honored  lords, 
A  woman  of  a  most  prodigious  spirit" — JOHN  WEBSTKR. 

HE  also  smiled  as  he  appeared  in  sight,  but  smiled  in  such  a 
.sort  as  to  add  fervor  to  her  resolution.  There  was  a  reckless 
ness  in  the  scorn  which  he  now  betrayed  to  the  woman  he  had 
once  loved,  which  was  certainly  as  impolitic  as  ungenerous ;  but 
having  discarded  his  mask,  Saxon  seemed  anxious  to  show  how 
ill-favored  had  been  the  aspect  he  had  concealed  beneath  it.  He 
was  obtuse  enough  not  to  see  that  the  feelings  he  had  trampled 
had  risen  up  in  indignation.  He  was  blind  enough  to  mistake 
the  smile  upon  her  lips  for  a  return  of  her  former  feelings  of 
levotion.  So  it  is,  that  the  wisest  of  men  will  err  at  those  mo 
ments  when  they  need  all  their  wisdom.  Sagacious  beyond 
most  men  of  his  sphere  and  neighborhood  —  particularly  con 
versant,  according  to  his  own  notion,  with  women  —  he  was  yet 
deceived  without  effort,  by  one  with  whom  his  communion  had 


396  BORDER    BEACJLliS. 

begun  by  his  own  successful  deceptions.  She  had  been  won  in 
a  moment  —  by  a  word!  —  how  idle  to  think  that  there  were 
depths  in  her  mind  which  lie  could  not  sound  —  that  there  were 
feelings  written  in  her  features  which  he  could  not  read. 

Such  was  the  case.  The  cunning  man  was  at  fault.  The  re 
was  that  in  the  bosom  of  Florence  Marbois,  which  he  could 
neither  sound  nor  see;  but  it  was  written  that  he  should  be 
blind  in  this,  as  in  other  matters.  She  had  been  the  victim  <;:' 
her  blindness  —  it  was  just,  for  the  sake  of  retribution,  that  he 
should  have  his  moment  of  blindness  also. 

"Perhaps,  you  believed  me  not,  Florence,  when  I  spoke  l-j 
you  last;  but  I  spoke  nothing  but  the  truth.  She  is  here  — 
here  in  the  swamp,  beside  you  —  the  woman  whom  I  now  love 
—  your  rival  —  your  successor." 

It  was  thus  he  spoke,  in  the  language  of  mockery.  Her  eyes 
met  his  glance  unshrinkingly.  Her  cheeks  were  pale  —  very 
pale  —  for  a  single  instant.  In  the  next  moment  they  were 
flushed  with  a  redness  which  did  not  depart  throughout  the 
whole  of  their  conference.  Her  reply  was  uttered  in  tones  of 
calmness  which  surprised  her  seducer.  He  knew  not  where 
she  got  the  strength  for  such  equability  —  he  knew  not  tho 
deep,  dark  sources  of  her  present  consolation. 

"  You  mistake,  Edward  Saxon.  I  believed  you.  If  I  were 
a  vain  woman,  it  might  be  some  gratification  to  me  to  know 
that  my  frequent  and  previous  jealousies  —  idle  as  they  were  in 
some  respects  —  were  yet  not  unfounded.  I  rightjy  judged 
your  character.  My  passions  have,  not  been  whollv  blind-- 
they  were  always  capable  of  the  task  —  perhaps,  not  a  diflieuit 
one  —  of  estimating  yours.  I  know  you  now,  in  that  matter,  t«> 
1)0  what  J  then  believed  you.  If  I  erred  in  my  conjectures  1 
have  already  borne  my  punishment.  The  time  fur  error  and 
regret,  so  far  as  you  are  interested,  is  for  ever  past  with  me." 

"I  am  glad  of  it,  upon  my  soul  —  very  glad  of  it.  Y'-u 
speak  now  like  a  reasonable  woman,  Florence,  and  I  think  the 
better  of  you.  Now  that  I  find  you  so  calm  and  sensible,  1  arn 
free  to  speak  to  you  with  more  confidence.  Y<»u  must  hav«> 
discovered  by  this  time,  as  I  have  done,  that  these  early  notions 
of  love,  that  so  mislead  the  dreaming  girl  and  the  desiring  boy, 
are  only  so  many  masks  of  passion  —  masks  under  which  the 


THE    OUTLAW    AND    HIS    VICTIM.  397 

considerate  nature  Disguises  those  tumultuous  frenzies  which 
might  terrify  the  young  from  the  patlis  of  pleasure  and  true  en 
joyment,  much  more  frequently  than  they  could  ever  entice  or 
gratify.  As  the  experience  grows,  the  mask  ceases  to  be  neces 
sary  or  even  useful.  It  is  then  that  we  cast  it  aside  as  an  en 
cumbrance  which,  in  fact,  impedes  possession  and.  qualifies  de 
light.  I'm  sure,  Florence,  we  shall  enjoy  ourselves  much  more 
by  understanding  these  things  correctly." 

A  faint  smile  covered  her  lips  as  she  answered  : — 

"At  least,  it  is  quite  as  well  that  we  should  think  so  —  that 
I  should  think  so.  With  the  conviction  that  all  is  lost,  a  resig 
nation  to  one's  poverty  is  no  less  becoming  than  necessary.  But 
do  you  only  come  to  tell  me  this,  Edward  Saxon?  Have  you 
not  some  other  purpose?  I  knew  all  this  before." 

11  To  say  truth,  Florence,  I  came  to  try  you.  To  see  if  you 
had  got  over  that  madness  that  used  to  possess  you  in  your 
days  of  jealousy— " 

"  And  which  it  gave  you  pleasure  to  see  ?" 

"Not  so.  It  vexed  —  it  worried  me  to  bear  with  your  com 
plaints — to  listen  to  your  harsh  reproaches  —  to  hear  your  un 
founded  suspicions." 

"  But  they  were  not  unfounded." 

"  Till  now  they  were.  If  I  was  ever  true  to  woman,  Flor 
ence,  I  have  been  true  to  you  till  now.  Never  had  I  thought 
to  wander  from  you,  till  I  met  with  her." 

"And  she  —  she  has  a  name!"  exclaimed  Florence,  with 
something  more  of  curiosity  and  interest  in  her  looks  and  lan 
guage.  "  If  I  am  to  yield  my  place  to  another  —  if  I  am  to  be 
deprived  of  that  for  which  I  have  been  so  well  content  hitherto 
to  live,  at  least  —  let  me  know  something  of  her  who  rises  on 
my  ruin?  She  is  beautiful  —  that  I  know  —  that  you  have  told 
me  —  but  her  name  ?  Who  is  she  —  what  is  her  family  —  where 
did  you  find  her  ?" 

"  All  in  good  time*  Florence  ;  but  you  do  me  wrong,  and  your 
self  wrong.  She  takes  no  place  of  yours  —  she  only  shares  it. — 
and  now  that  you  show  so  calm  a  temper  on  the  subject,  let  me 
tell  you  that  you  have  risen  greatly  in  my  favor.  This  is  the 
condition  of  mind  to  which  I  w(.iild  have  brought  you  years  ago, 
if  I  could.  It  is  the  only  condition  of  mind  which  would  make 


3U6  BORDKK    HKAtJLi-o. 

either  of  us  happy.  I  am  one  of  those  men  who  are  always  apt 
to  resent  and  fly  from  an  effort  to  restrain  my  liberty.  My  heart 
must  share  the  freedom  of  my  limbs,  and  that  sort  of  exacting 
love,  which  suffers  no  exercise  to  my  eyes,  my  thoughts,  my  ac 
tions,  is,  of  all  others,  so  tyrannous  a  bondage,  that,  to  confess 
a  truth  to  you,  Florence,  you  became  hateful  to  me  when  y3u 
began  to  exercise  it." 

"Ha!  hateful!" 

"  It  is  true  —  too  true.  But  do  not  understand  me,  Florence, 
as  applying  to  you  any  such  epithet,  now.  This  resignation  on 
your  part  to  my  will,  places  you  in  a  very  favorable  position ; 
and,  if  you  keep  in  this  mood,  there  can  be  no  good  reason, 
why  we  should  not  be  to  each  other  as  before.  Let  it  be  un 
derstood  that  I  am  to  do  as  I  please,  and  feel  as  1  please,  and 

go  where  I  please,  without  having  that  d d  hunchback  at 

my  heels,  and  without  being  compelled  to  hearken  to  the  per 
petual  growlings  of  suspicion  and  complaint  —  and  nobody  could 
love  you  better  than  myself;  and,  if  you  will  only  promise  me 
to  yield  to  my  wishes  —  to  haunt  me  no  more  with  your  jeal 
ousy,  and  pursue  me  no  more  with  irksome  reproaches — " 

"  Be  sure,  Edward  Saxon,  I  never  will,"  said  the  unhappy 
woman,  with  solemnity.  "  Jealousy  of  you  will  never  more 
fill  the  heart  of  Florence  Marbois  —  reproaches  will  never 
reach  your  ears  from  her  lips.  I  have  seen  the  folly  of  such 
conduct." 

"  Why,  Florence,  this  is  wisdom.  We  shall  do  well  after  this ; 
and  you  can  bear  now  to  behold  me  in  the  arms  of  Virginia." 

"  Virginia !  is  that  her  name  ?"  asked  Florence,  with  a  con 
tinued  effort  at  calmness,  which,  had  the  outlaw  been  studiously 
observant,  would  never  have  concealed  the  tremulous  curiosity 
that  fill  the  heart  of  the  speaker. 

"  It  is  a  sweet  name,  Florence,  but  not  so  sweet  as  herself. 
But  you  shall  see  her  with  your  own  eyes.  You  shall  behold 
her  charms,  if  you  are  willing  and  can  keep  down  your  jeal 
ousy —  if  you  can  still  continue  unmoved  —  if  you  will  not  hate 
her." 

"  Hate  her  !  I  hate  her  ?  Why  should  I  hate  her,  Edward 
Saxoil  ?  In  what  has  she  wronged  me  ?  No  !  no  !  I  will  not 
hate  her  —  I  can  not." 


THE    UliTLAvV    AAD     .,Jo    ViLilil.  399 

"  Well,  this  is  the  right  temper.  1>\  heavens,  Florence,  but 
you  are  woridrously  changed  lor  the  better  \vithin  a  week. 
But  will  you  love  her,  Florence  ?  You  should  —  she  is  so  beau 
tiful,  so  gentle,  and  will  make  you  so  excellent  a  companion." 

"  I  can  not  promise  that  until  I  know — " 

The  speaker  stopped  abruptly. 

"  Know  what,  Florence  ?" 

"  Does  she  love  you  ?" 

The  more  obvious  signification  of  this  question  was  grateful 
to  the  outlaw's  vanity.  He  laughed  aloud,  as  he  replied  — 

"  Ah,  traitor  !  what  would  you  have  ?  Suppose  I  tell  you, 
that  she  does  not  love  me." 

"  You  jest  with  me." 

"  Gad,  I  know  not  that,  Florence.  I  don't  know  whether  I 
can  say  with  safety,  that  she  does  love  me." 

"  How  then  came  she  here1?" 

"Hum  !  —  1  brought  her;  and,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  not  alto 
gether  with  her  own  consent.  But  I  doubt  if  her  opposition 
was  earnest,  Florence.  Like  most  women  —  like  yourself, 
Florence  —  she  probably  hides  the  real  sentiment  under  the 
disguise  of  one  which  she  does  not  truly  feel.  There  was  no 
small  portion  of  this  sort  of  trickery  in  yourself,  Florence, 
when  we  first  met  —  when  we  used  to  meet  by  the  late  —  the 
little  lake—" 

"  Remind  me  not,  I  pray  you,"  said  the  outcast  woman,  with 
a  sternness  of  accent  that  caused  the  outlaw  to  gaze  at  her  in 
suspicious  silence  for  several  seconds.  With  a  countenance 
only  half  assured,  he  proceeded  : — 

"  Florence,  I  half  suspect  you  now.  I  doubt  you  are  only 
striving  at  composure.  Your  jealousies  are  returning,  and  the 
old  reproaches  will  be  renewed — " 

"Never!  Edward  Saxon,  never!  Before  heaven  1  swear 
that  I  can  never  reproach  you  again  ;  and  as  for  jealousy — " 

"  Enough  !  I  am  too  willing  to  believe  you  to  insist  upon  too 
many  assurances." 

The  outlaw  did  not  see  the  contemptuous  scorn  upon  the  lips 
which  concluded  fitly  the  unspoken  sentence. 

"I  can  be  happy  with  you,  Florence  —  nay,  I  could  have 
been  happy  and  contented  with  you  all  along,  but  that  you* 


tOO  BORDER    BKAULES. 

nnwise  suspicions  and  goading  jealousies  drove?  ir.e  from  \>.\\\- 
side,  and  made  me  not  only  indifferent  to  your  society  but  anx 
ious  to  escape  it.  Now  that  you  have  grown  wiser,  I  trust  that 
no  such  necessity  will  again  prevail  to  make  cither  of  us  less 
happy,  than  we  should  and  may  be.  With  Virginia  and  your 
self—" 

"But,  if  she  loves  you  not?"  said  Florence,  coldly 
"I   have  not  said  it,  Florence;    nay  —  I   am  not  willing   i 
say,  and  still  less  to  believe  it.     True,  I  brought  her  with  less 
willingness  on  her  part  than    I    could  have  desired  to  see  ;   but 
now  that  she  is  here  —  in  my  power-— at  n:y  mercy  —  she  will 
see  —  her  own  common  sense—" 

"Edward  Saxon!  you  surely  mean  no  violence  to  the  girl  ?" 
"Why,  Florence!"  exclaimed  the  outlaw,  as  he  read  the. 
horror  in  her  countenance,  which  was  not  wanting  to  the  accents 
of  her  voice.  "  Do  you  think  it  so  hard  to  persuade  the  maiden, 
that  I  am  as  proper  a  man  as  she  could  find  among  a  thousand  ? 
She,  I  doubt  not,  will  be  as  flexible  as  yourself,  when  the 
season  comes.  Nay,  have  I  not  told  you  already,  that  I  louk 
upon  her  reluctance  as  nothing  more  than  that  disguise  which 
women  naturally  put  on  to  hide  their  real  sentiments.  She  will 
love  me  quite  as  well  as  another,  when  she  has  paid  those  due 
sacrifices  to  false  delicacy  which  form  a  part  of  the  social  re 
ligion  of  the  sex.  You  are  all  alike,  Florence  —  all  alike. 
Virginia,  like  yourself,  will  go  through  the  various  stages  of 
passion  —  first,  a  pretty  fear,  that  woos  you  to  pursue  while  it 
only  affects  to  fly  ;  then  a  yielding  gust  of  tenderness,  that  is 
all  tears  for  a  season  —  then  a  glow  of  greater  delight  —  the 
intoxication  of  new  passion,  which  is  all  smiles  and  burning 
blushes  —  then  comes  the  deliberate  devotion  —  then,  the  jeal 
ousy,  Florence  —  the  jealousy  —  which  is  as  certain  as  the 
upward  progress  of  the  sparks ;  and,  until  this  stage  is  over,  no 
peace  for  either  party.  Then,  as  in  your  case  again,  and  as  I 
rejoice  to  behold  it  now,  the  quiet  calm  of  love,  which  is  re 
solved  to  take  it  on  the  easiest  terms  —  to  suppose  it  nothing 
but  what  it  should  be,  and  believe,  'A'ith  the  poet,  in  love,  as  in 
the  case  of  higher  destinies,  that  '  whatever  is,  is  right.'  Yov 
can't  conceive,  my  dear  Florence,  how  much  I  am  rejoiced  by 
the  change  in  you." 


THE    OUTLAW    AND    HIS    VICTIM.  401 

"  I'm  very  glad  of  it !"  was  the  reply. 

"  We  shall  be  as  happy  in  the  swamp  as  if  the  world  was  in 
our  grasp.  With  Virginia  ^m  one  hand,  and  you,  Florence,  on 
the  other  —  satisfied  as  you  both  should  be,  that  the  heart  of  a 
man  is  capacious  enough  for  both  —  I  could  pass  my  days,  I 
think  without  any  sentiment  but  that  of  contented  enjoyment, 
and  my  nights  with  no  other  dreams  than  those  of  security  and 
bliss.  You  have  read,  Florence  — nay,  you  have  heard  and  seen 
something  of  those  gay  rovers  of  the  gulf — that  were  kings 
upon  its  billows,  and,  fierce  in  war  —  as  fierce  as  its  own  storms 
—  who  were  yet  as  peaceful  as  its  hours  of  calm,  when  they 
surrendered  themselves,  upon  the  green  palm-covered  island,  to 
the  embraces  of  beauty— lying  beneath  the  shade  of  the  plan 
tain  and  the  fig,  and,  with  lip  to  lip,  and  heart,  melting  as  it 
were,  into  the  dissolving  sweetness  of  the  mutual  heart,  they 
gave  up  life  to  the  sweet  delirium — the  pleasant  repose  —  the 
happy  confidence  of  love.  Shall  we  not  have  these  joys  again, 
Florence?  No  storms,  no  fear,  no  scolding,  no  caprices  —  nny, 
turn  not  away,  my  girl  — forget  that  there  have  been  words  or 
looks  of  unkindness  between  us.  Now,  that  you  have  come  to 
a  right  understanding  of  what  should  be  the  condition  of  our 
ties,  there  can  be  no  cause  of  discontent  or  strife  hereafter.  A 
kiss,  a  sweet  embrace,  dear  Florence,  in  token  that  there  is 
peace  between  us." 

As  these  words  were  spoken,  he  drew  nigh  to  the  woman, 
whose  face  had  been  partially  averted  while  he  spoke.  A 
tempest  was  in  her  heart  the  while,  and  a  vexing  commotion 
and  a  burning  heat  within  her  brain.  Her  hand  trembled  within 
her  bosom,  that  trembled  also  with  a  degree  of  emotion  which 
shook  her  whole  frame.  Meanwhile,  the  outlaw,  utterly  de 
ceived  by  her  deportment,  and,  perhaps,  quite  as  much  deceived 
by  his  own  desires  on  the  subject  —  pleased  to  find  her  so  easily 
reconciled,  and  beholding  her  now,  in  this  alteration  of  her 
mood,  with  something  like  the  renewal  of  an  ancient  sentiment 
— intoxicated  no  less  with  the  warm  fancies  which  he  had  been 
breathing  in  her  ears  —  approached  her,  and,  passing  his  arm 
suddenly  about  her  waist,  drew  her  toward  his  bosorn. 

"Yes,  dear  Florence,"  he  continued,  "let  this  embrace  renew 
the  pleasures  of  the  past,  and  this  kiss  be  the  token  that  aU 


BUilDEii    iiL.U.U>. 

cinkindness  is   forgotten,  and  then-   is  nothing   now   but   peace 
between  us." 

A  shudder  passed  over  her  frame.as  she  felt  his  arm  encircle 
her  —  for  a  moment  she  seemed  desirous  to  shrink  from  his 
embrace ;  but,  in  another  instant,  turning  as  if  to  requite  it, 
she  suddenly  extricated  one  of  her  arms,  which  she  threw  be 
hind  her  as  she  exclaimed: — 

"  Ay,  Edward  Saxon,  peace  it  shall  be,  but  it  shall  be  the 
peace  of  death.  Take  this !  — this  I  Let  this  be  the  token  of 
my  forgiveness.  This  for  my  wrong.  This  to  the  heart  that 
could  not  value  the  sole,  the  worshipping,  devotion  of  such  a 
heart  as  mine." 

She  struck,  as  she  spoke,  with  the  little  dagger  which  she 
had  concealed  within  her  bosom.  Twice,  thrice,  she  struck, 
and  for  a  moment  the  outlaw  spoke  not  —  moved  not.  Aston 
ishment  seemed  to  possess  and  overcome  his  faculties.  But 
when  she  had  given  the  third  blow,  he  threw  her  from  his  arms 
with  a  violence  that  sent  her  against  the  opposite  wall;  where 
she  stood,  glaring  upon  him  like  a  tigress,  her  eyes  starting 
from  their  orbs  with  an  expression  of  mingled  hate  and  horror. 

But  Saxon  fell  not  —  he  seemed  not  even  to  be  hurt.  He 
advanced  to  her  without  discomposure  or  irregularity  of  step, 
yet  every  blow  had  been  planted  by  the  hand  of  the  most 
determined  hostility  upon  his  heart. 

"  Your  arm  is  feebler  than  your  soul,  Florence  Marbois,  else 
had  your  hateful  purpose  been  accomplished.  Woman,  how 
have  you  deceived  me  !" 

She  lifted  the  dagger  again  as  he  approached  her,  but,  as  it 
met  her  eyes,  she  flung  the  worthless  weapon  from  her  hand 
with  a  scream  that  denoted  the  disappointed  fury  in  her  bosom. 
The  steel,  sniall  and  slender,  having  met  with  the  resistance  of 
a  button  when  she  struck,  had  yielded  and  curled  up  at  the 
contact,  without  penetrating  more  deeply  than  his  outer  gar 
ment.  He  was  utterly  unharmed. 

"  Florence,  you  are  mad,"  was  the  remark  of  Saxon.  «•  This 
attempt — " 

"  Ay,  man,  monster,  villain  —  I  am  mad.  But  who  has  mad 
dened  me  —  who  has  driven  me  to  this?  I  am  doubly  mad 
that  I  have  failed  in  what  i  have  sought  to  do.  Feeble  hand 


worthless  steel  !  But  why  stand  you  looking  on  me,  Edward 

Saxon?  — Will  you  not  kill?  — Here,  i  am  ready  — my  heart 
js  0pC11  —  my  bosom  is  bared  to  the  blow.  Strike,  and  strike 
quickly  — it  is  your  only  chance  —  for  I  have  sworn,  Edward 
Saxon —  sworn  by  heaven  and  by  hell  —  by  all  powers  that 
may  yield  me  power  for  revenge  — that  the  world  shall  not 
contain  us  both  —  that  one  of  us  must  die.  I  am  ready  now, 
Edward  Saxon!  — I  would  not  live  —  I  hate  you  too  much  to 
breathe  with  you  the  same  atmosphere  of  life.  Strike  !  strike  ! 
You  would  have  given  me  peace  just  now  —  it  is  not  too  late! 
I  wish  no  other." 

With  a  desperate  hand  she  tore  open  the  vest  which  covered 
her  bosom,  and  the  white  realm  —  still  so  full  of  beauty  and 
sweetness,  if  not  of  innocence  and  love  —  those  heaving  hills 
on  which  his  head  had  so  often  rested  in  other  days  —  lay  bare 
before  his  sight.  He  turned  from  them  without  a  word.  The 
picture  reminded  even  his  cold  and  careless  bosom  too  warmly 
of  that  past,  in  which  his  betrayal  of  her  love  had  so  amply  jus 
tified  her  present  hate. 

"I  leave  you,  Florence  —  I  leave  you  and — forgive  you." 
He  said  no  more  as  he  parted  from  her  presence,  leaving  her 
where  she  stood  —  her  hair  dishevelled,  her  bosom  bare,  her 
eyes  wild  like  those  of  the  maniac,  but  her  ear  too  dull  to  heai 
his  last  words  —  her  thoughts  anywhere  but  where  they  should 
be,  and  her  whole  brain  in  the  wildest  commotion. 


BORDER   BEAGLES. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI 

THK  APE  CONSOLES  THE  HEROINE—  THE  PRICE  OF  VENGEANCE 

"  How's  this  f     Let  me  look  better  on't :  a  contract  t 
A  contract  sealed  and  ratified  " — BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER. 

No  sooner  had  Saxon  disappeared  from  the  apartment,  than 
it  was  entered  by  the  emissary,  Stillyards.  This  indefatigable 
urchin  had  maintained  beneath  the  eaves  his  habitual  practices, 
and  his  keen  senses  had  suffered  nothing  to  escape  him  of  the 
scene  which  has  been  just  described. 

Florence  beheld  not  his  entrance.  Her  eyes  were  open,  but, 
like  those  of  Lady  Macbeth,  "  their  sense  was  shut."  He  coolly 
proceeded  across  the  room,  and  took  up  the  dagger.  With  a 
curious  grin  of  equal  scorn  and  merriment,  he  examined  the 
worthless  instrument  which  had  so  amusingly  failed  to  serve  the 
purposes  of  vengeance.  While  thus  engaged,  the  returning 
consciousness  of  the  woman  apprized  her  of  his  presence.  She 
rapidly  crossed  the  intervening  boards  that  separated  them. 
She  grasped  his  arm  with  one  hand,  while  with  the  other,  she 
repossessed  herself  of  the  ineffective,  but  handsome  weapon. 
This  she  hurled  from  the  window,  with  a  laugh  of  bitterness 
that  seemed  a  fitting  and  mocking  commentary  upon  her  own 
unperforming  endeavor. 

"  Ha !  ha !  ha !  So  —  you  have  seen  it  all,  Richard  ?  Weak 
hand,  and  worthless  steel !  Ha !  ha !  ha !  did  it  make  yon 
laugh  ?  No  !  and  why  not  ?  He  laughed  ?  Did  he  not  ?  Did 
you  not  see  him  laugh?  He  laughs  now  —  now!  Well!  li€ 
may  laugh  !  What  a  fool  am  I  —  I  that  am  wronged  and  ruinec 
—  dishonored,  scorned,  abused,  and  deserted.  What  a  fool  an 
I  to  dream  of  justice  —  to  think  that  there  could  be  vengennc* 
for  the  lone  and  feeble,  woman.  T.-.  iliii  k  tlint  ;;  \ve;;k  s»nu  lik< 
mine,  should  avenge  my  \veaiur  !.•>;..•." 


THE    APE    CONSOLES    THK    IIKJIOIXR.  405 

And,  as  she  uttered  these  wild  and  passionate  words,  she  e;::.t 
trie  arm  which  she  reproached,  heedless  of  the  pain,  with  fearful 
violence  down  upon  the  jamb  of  the  window,  the  blood  spirting 
as  she  did  so,  from  the  ivory-white  and  soft  flesh  —  a  sight  to 
make  even  the  rude  but  devoted  dwarf  slndder,  and  to  awaken 
i'.i  him  a  degree  of  sympathy  which  lifted  his  nature  and  turned 
all  his  better  feelings  into  pity. 

"'Twa'n't  the  arm  —  'twa'n't  the  arm,  Ma'am  Florence  —  - 
'twas  the  knife  only  that  wa'n't  fit  for  nothing,  with  all  its  shine 
and  silver  about  it.  If  it  had  been  this  now,  ma'am,"  displaying 
his  own  heavy  bowic  blade,  as  he  spoke  —  "there's  no  curl  in 
this  !  — no  mistake  !" 

"Give  it  me!"  she  cried — "this  it  shall  be  yet.  This  feels 
like  vengeance,  Richard — there  is  strength  enough  in  my  arm, 
and  resolution  still  in  my  heart.  I  can  not  fail  now  —  there  is 
still  something  for  which  Florence  Marbois  may  live." 

She  seized  the  weighty  instrument  as  she  spoke,  turned  it 
beneath  her  eye,  grasped  with  one  hand  the  massy  blade,  which 
she  strove  in  vain  to  bend;  then,  as  if  satisfied  that  it  was  now 
only  necessary  to  strike  the  blow,  was  about  to  hurry  from  the 
apartment,  as  if  in  pursuit  of  her  victim  ;  but  the  cooler  dwarf 
threw  himself  between  her  and  the  door. 

Significantly  putting  his  fingers  on  his  lips  as  if  in  token  of 
silence — with  an  audacity  which  was  unusual,  and  which,  at 
any  earlier  day,  would  have  found  its  immediate  and  unmeas 
ured  rebuke  from  the  lips  of  the  haughty  woman  —  he  gently 
grasped  her  wrist,  and  led  her  back  into  the  darker  part  of  the 
room  out  of  sight  and  hearing  from  the  window.  Once  there. 
IK;  counselled  her  to  the  delay  of  a  few  moments,  while  he  left 
tin;  house,  and  stealthily  examined  all  its  approaches  which 
might  conceal  a  lurking  spy.  His  own  practices  had  necessarily 
made  him  properly  suspicious  of  all  others,  and  had  endowed 
him  with  the  skill  to  provide  against  all  detection. 

Finding  that  the  coast  was  clear,  and  having  ascertained  that 
Saxon  and  Jones,  whom  he  most  apprehended,  were  gone  to 
some  distance  in  the  encampment,  he  hastily  returned  to  hig 
mistress,  after  the  lapse  of  a  few  moments. .  He  forfnd  her  as 
much  excited  as  ever,  and  doubly  impatient  to  proceed  in  con 
sequence  of  the  unwonted  constraint  which  had  been  put  upon 


406  BORDER    BEAGLES, 

lu-r.  Tliw  reasons  for  this  restraint  lie  proceeded  to  declare  in 
liis  own  rude  language  :  — 

"  Why,  Ma'am  Florence,  it's  no  use  for  you  to  go  now  — 
Saxon  Ml  never  let  you  try  it  again.  You  can't  get  nigh  enough 
for  a  single  dig  at  him  ;  and  if  you  did,  he'd  be  wide  awake  for 
you.  He'd  take  the  knife  from  you,  'fore  you  could  say  Jack 
Robinson,  and  laugh  at  you  more  than  ever." 

A  glance  of  fire  —  a  fierce  stare  —  rewarded  the  speaker 
There  could  be  no  enmity  at  that  moment  more  decided,  in  the 
estimation  of  her  anguished  heart,  than  that  which  seemed  to 
insist  upon  the  impracticability  of  its  hope  of  vengeance. 

"What  then?  Am  I  to  submit?  To  bear  his  scorn,  his  de 
sertion  ?  Is  he  to  walk  with  booted  footstep  across  my  heart  ? 
Wherefore  do  you  stop  me?  Speak,  sir,  I  command  you! 
Tell  me  other  things  than  this,  or  be  dumb  for  ever.  I  will  not 
hear  you  —  I  will  hear  nothing  that  takes  from  me  the  last  hope 
of  my  heart  —  which  baffles  and  denies  the  only  prayer  which 
I  am  prepared  to  make  in  life." 

The  dwarf  was  not  unwilling  to  comply.  He  had  no  purpose 
of  baffling  her  vengeance.  A  bitter  smile  passed  over  his  squalid 
cheeks.  His  mouth  widened  into  a  grin,  and  at  another  tima 
the  malignant  fires  which  darted  from  his  eye,  might  have  awa 
kened  in  the  bosom  of  his  fair  companion,  a  feeling  of  shudder 
ing  disgust.  Her  own  roused  and  embittered  spirit,  jaundiced 
'by  the  passions  which  inflamed  it,  sufficed  to  blind  her  to  the 
unconcealed  malice  of  his.  She  saw  not  the  gloating  expres 
sion  of  his  features  —  she  heard  only  those  accents  which  prom 
ised  her  the  vengeance  she  desired.  He  showed  her  how  vain 
would  be  her  hope  to  succeed  in  any  renewal  of  her  late  at 
tempts,  to  avenge  her  wrong  in  person.  He  admitted,  also,  the 
great  difficulty  in  the  way  of  his  succeeding,  unless  with  circum 
stances  greatly  in  his  favor,  of  a  conflict  with  a  man  so  powerful 
of  frame  and  so  practised  in  his  arms  as  Saxon  ;  but  there  was 
another  way,  which,  while  it  demanded  greater  delay,  promised 
to  be  followed  by  better  results. 

"The  regulators  are  out,  and  it's  how  to  hide  is  the  talk 
among  tire  beagles.  There's  an  old  man,  a  preaching  metho- 
dist,  that's  all  bite,  on  t'other  side  of  the  '  Big  Black,'  at  a  place 
called  Zion's  Hill  —  he's  been  a  mustering  more  than  n  week 


THE    PHK'F    Op     VKXCi;  \M   ;-  407 

now,  and  it's  duly  bcratiM.-  i.c  doiV-t  know  \v!.!di  \v?ry  to  set  Jut* 
nose,  that  lie  ain't  on  trail  after  the  beadles  afore  tin's.  He's 
got  a  son  that  barks  with  us,  and  we  know  from  mm  how  the 
cat  jumps.  Then  there's  a  lad,  one  Wat  Rawlins,  that's  been 
a  contriving  again  us  too.  Jones  is  more  afraid  of  him  than 
t'other,  'cause  he  don't  say  much,  and  Badger  always  preaches 
what  he's  guine  to  do  ;  now,  it's  only  to  show  this  here  chap, 
Rnwlins,  how  to  find  the  track  for  Cane  Castle.,  and  let  him 
n-nke  a  start  on  a  sudden,  and  it's  all  mush  with  Saxon.  There's 
two  dogs  that  barks  between  us  and  Rawlins,  arid  it's  only  to 
send  'em  off  sarching  for  John  Cole's  mare;  then  Rawlins  f?>:i 
bring  his  men  into  the  swamp  unbeknowing  to  all,  and  it's  a 
better  knife  than  yours  or  mine,  Ma'am  Florence,  that  does  the 
business." 

"I  see!  I  see!  and  you  will  go  to  these  men,  Richard,  you 
will  bring  the  aA^enger  into  the  swamp  —  you  will  show  them 
where  lie  sleeps  —  ha!" 

To  these  eager  demands  and  exclamations  the  answer  of  the 
dwarf  was  slow.  He  had  his  reasons  for  deliberation  —  he  had 
his  own  bargain  to  make ;  and,  with  the  policy  of  a  more  cnn 
ning  tradesman,  his  reluctance  to  answer  the  requisitions  of  the 
superior,  grew  in  proportion  to  the  eagerness  of  her  demand 
That  she  might  be  avenged  amply  by  the  means  he  suggested, 
and  by  his  means,  he  proceeded  to  reiterate.  The  particular 
process  was  all  shown  —  his  own  consent  to  do  the  office,  which 
could  evidently  be  done  by  no  one  so  well  as  himself,  was  the 
only  point  upon  which  he  hesitated  to  declare  himself. 

"Twill  reward  you,  Richard — you  shall  have  all — every 
thing — money,  jewels  —  everything,  I  repeat  —  for  why,"  she 
added  mournfully,  as  if  to  herself — "  why  should  I  keep  aught ? 
I  shall  have  little  need  for  gold  or  jewels  when  that  is  done  — 
little  need,  and  oh!  how  much  less  desire  —  speak,  Richard, 
tell  me  that  I  may  rely  on  you  for  this  last  service.  Be  faithful 
as  you  have  been  before,  and  take  what  you  Avil!  ~—  take  all  that 
1  have  to  bestow." 

"You  say  it,  Ma'am  Florence  —  you'll  promise  rne,"  demand 
ed  the  dwarf  with  an  eagerness  equalling  her  own,  while,  in  his 
gloating  eyes  an  expression  of  anxious  desire,  might  have  been 


408 

e;;.^Jy  read  by  ;u>v  o'ysei'ver  less  !;li  .di-d  ;!:.-,ii  tlic  woman  to 
whom  it  was  addressed. 

"  Have  I  not  said  ?  Surely  I  promise.  Why  should  you 
doubt  —  why  hesitate?  Have  I  ever  failed  where  I  promised, 
Richard  ?  Have  you  not  ever  had  your  reward  from  me  ?  I 
repeat,  you  shall  have,  when  you  have  done  rne  this  service  — 
when  you  have  brought  the  officers  of  justice  into  this  den  of 
thieves  —  when  the  chief  villain  of  the  band  is  a  captive,  and 
the  hope  from  his  heart,  like  that  from  my  own,  is  gone  for  ever 
—  you  shall  have  all  the  wealth  —  the  money  and  the  jewels  — 
which  I  have  !  Nothing  shall  be  withheld  of  value  that  you 
may  demand.  You  shall  be  my  heir,  Richard  —  you  inherit 
all !" 

"  All  in  your  power  to  bestow  !"  slowly  spoke  the  dwarf,  re 
peating  a  portion  of  her  previous  words.  "  'Twas  that  you  said, 
Ma'am  Florence," 

"Yes  —  again  I  say  it:  you  shall  have  all  in  my  power  to 
bestow." 

"  It's  a  promise,  Ma'am  Florence  —  good  as  Bible  oath." 

"As  if  I  had  sworn  it!"  solemnly  replied  the  woman. 

He  caught  her  wrist  eagerly  in  his  hand,  drew  her  toward 
him,  and,  rising  on  tip-toe,  whispered  in  her  ear.  As  the  com 
munication,  whatever  it  was,  reached  her  senses,  she  recoiled 
from  his  contact  —  shook  herself  free  from  his  grasp,  and,  rece 
ding  a  step,  regarded  him  with  an  expression  of  countenance  in 
which  contempt  and  scorn  were  mingled  equally. 

The  eye  of  the  abashed  dwarf  sank  beneath  the  fire-flashing 
glances  of  hers;  his  frame  faltered,  and  an  effort  which,  at  the 
same  moment,  he  made  to  speak,  died  away  in  confused  and 
feeble  accents,  which  were  utterly  unintelligible  and  almost 
unheard. 

Meanwhile,  various  were  the  thoughts  which  coursed  rapidly 
through  the  mind  of  Florence  Marbois.  Anger  and  vexation  at 
first  were  predominant  feelings  —  so  strong  in  the  first  moment 
after  his  communication  had  been  heard,  as  almost  to  obliterate, 
during  the  same  brief  space,  all  memory  of  the  vengeance  which 
she  had  sworn  against  her  seducer.  But  very  soon  these  feel 
ings  passed  away. 

"  I  must  be  proud  no  more."  were  the  words  which  at  len^tfc 


THE    PRICE    OF    VENGEANCE.  409 

Droke  from  her  lips.  "I  mock  myself  with  those  shadows. 
Richard,"  she  said,  advancing  as  she  spoke,  and  extending  her 
hand,  "it  shall  be  as  you  say.  All  that  is  left  me  to  bestow, 
shall  be  yours,  when  you  have  accomplished  my  vengeance." 

lie  grasped  the  extended  hand,  and  carrying  it  to  his  lips, 
covered  it  with  such  caresses  as  a  she-bear  might  have  lavished 
upon  her  last  cub  in  licking  it  into  shape.  Florence  Marbois 
had  sunk  wofully  in  her  own  estimation.  Her  pride  was  gone, 
and  she  had  nothing  to  live  for;  but  she  withdrew  the  hand 
that  suffered  from  the  slaver  of  the  deformed,  with  a  strong  ex 
pression  of  disgust. 

"Enough,  Richard.  And  now  to  the  prosecution  of  these 
plans." 

It  will  not  need  that  we  follow  the  dialogue  in  all  its  details. 
It  is  sufficient  for  us  to  say,  that  Stillyards,  being  familiar,  by 
reason  of  his  espionage,  with  all  the  circumstances  of  the  chief 
robbers  in  the  swamp,  and  with  all  those  more  prominent 
sources  of  danger  which  they  feared,  was  better  prepared,  than 
Saxon  or  Jones  could  have  believed,  to  devise  an  effectual  plan 
for  their  capture.  It  was  not  long  before  he  was  despatched 
by  his  mistress  from  her  presence. 

There  were  new  reasons  added  to  old  ones,  why  she  should 
desire  to  send  him  forth  as  speedily  as  possible.  He  was  not 
simply  a  means  of  vengeance  —  he  had  become  a  creditor;  and 
the  miserable  debtor,  who,  though  ruined,  had  still  in  her  soul 
some  glimpses  of  the  better  nature  from  which  she  had  fallen, 
began  to  shudder  at  the  humiliating  moral  bondage  which  such 
a  condition  always  seems  to  imply.  The  instrument  of  her  ne 
cessity  was  an  object  of  her  disgust.  Hitherto,  she  had  been 
able  to  reward  him  with  money  ;  now,  he  felt  the  large  increase 
of  his  power,  and  his  demands  had  grown  in  proportion.  He 
was  become  ambitious  —  money  no  longer  answered  his  desires; 
and  he,  who  by  reason  of  his  low  birth,  vulgar  life,  and  deformed 
person,  had  never  been  able  to  attach  the  affections  of  another, 
now  aimed  to  secure  the  highest  and  finest  and  sweetest  of  all 
human  affections,  as  the  reward  of  his  ministry. 

"  And  wherefore  should  I  scruple  at  this  ?"  was  the  demand 
which  Florence  Marbois  made  of  herself,  as  if  in  self-justifica 
tion  when  she  was  left  alone.  "  It  is  at  best  a  word  —  a  pledgfl 

b 


41U  BORDER    IJK.UJLKs. 

\\hich  is  dissolved  in  the  very  hour  which  brings  Edward  Saxon 
to  his  doom.  She  is  a  fool,  a  worse  than  idiot,  who  survives 
life's  purposes  —  and  I  have  but  one  purpose  in  life.  That  sat 
isfied,  and  1  may  well  assure  this  vain  and  miserable  game-make 
that  all  shall  then  be  hit*  which  is  in  the  power  of  Florence 
Marbois  to  bestow." 


CHAPTER    XXXVII 

NEW     READINGS     IN     OLD     FLAYS  —  CATASTROPHE     OF     HAMLET 
NOT    IN    A.\Y    FORMER    EDITION. 

"Good  sir,  softly  :  you  ha'  done  me  a  charitable  office." — Winter's  Tale. 

LET  us  now  return  to  our  Thespian  in  the  swamp.  We  left 
him,  with  Jones,  skimming  along  in  a  little  dug-out  over  the 
turbid  waters  of  the  Chitta-Loosa.  Jones  delighted  in  fishing, 
and  found  sufficient  employment  in  pursuing  this  occupation. 
Horsey  seemed  content  to  be  a  spectator;  but  the  wily  outlaw 
very  well  knew  that  his  content  would  be  of  no  very  long  du 
ration,  unless  the  food  on  which  he  better  fed  than  anything 
besides  —  the  oily  applause  of  the  audience  —  was  brought  in, 
to  quiet  an  appetite  that  no  measure  of  success  could  satiate. 
Accordingly,  he  suffered  not  his  own  vocation  so  far  to  occupy 
his  attention,  as  to  make  him  regardless  of  his  companion's 
temper. 

From  the  moment  when  he  cast  forth  his  lines,  he  began  to 
ply  the  actor  with  stage  reminiscences,  and  to  challenge  his 
opinions  upon  all  stage  matters.  These  requisitions  were  ail- 
important  to  the  perfection  of  the  proposed  establishment  at 
Benton.  Finding  deception  easy  on  all  kindred  subjects,  Jones 
enlarged  his  fictions.  He  suggested  a  grand  scheme  of  theatri 
cal  organization,  which  was  to  extend  itself  over  the  whole 
country,  from  West  Tennessee  down  to  the  bay  of  Biloxi.  A 
company  was  to  be  planned,  with  corporate  powers,  in  several 
of  the  southwestern  states,  which  was  to  build  theatres  in  all 
eligible  places,  and  divide  the  year  in  separate  seasons  of  th.ren 


PLAYS.  Ill 

months  in  each  of  them.  The  li-anajroMicnt  \vas  to  \-.i*  con 
ferred  on  Horsey.  Never  did  the  innocent  Hats  of  our  back 
woods  suffer  the  delusion  of  a  mammoth  bank,  or  a  mammoth 
railroad,  to  take  such  complete  hold  of  their  credulous  imagina 
tions.  Like  the  schemes  of  these  great  companies,  generally, 
the  wily  outlaw  made  it  appear,  that  the  plan  was  not  only  to 
be  pleasant  and  profitable,  but  excessively  patriotic. 

"  At  least,"  said  this  experienced  stockdealer,  "  at  least,  my 
dear  Horsey,  we  shall  make,  as  salaried  officers,  though  the 
stockholders  lose.  The  profits,  if  enough  to  pay  us,  are  enough 
for  the  patriotism  of  the  thing." 

"  But  it  must  be  profitable  to  all  parties,"  said  Horsey,  whose 
morality  was  somewhat  less  discursive  than  that  of  his  cam- 
panion. 

"  Ay,  ay  —  to  be  sure  it  must'  The  country  will  be  a  great 
gainer  in  money  and  morals,  and —  " 

"  Certainly,  such  a  diffusion  of  fehakspere  alone,  must  have 
that  effect." 

"  It  will.  That  alone  should  be  a  sufficient  consideration  to 
induce  the  state  to  subscribe  largely;  and  I  have  no  doubt  that 
she  will,  when  her  legislators  are  made  to  perceive  the  patriot 
ism  of  the  thing.  Then,  if  we  can  get  a  charter  for  a  banking- 
house  with  a  capital  of  ten  millions,  our  triumph  is  complete 
We  can  establish  houses  everywhere  —  raise  companies  —  issue 
moneys  —  do  anything.  Our  labors  being  for  the  public  good, 
we  can  appropriate  lands  and  tenements,  I  am  of  opinion,  with 
out  ever  paying  for  them." 

"Impossible!"  exclaimed  Horsey,  who  had  evidently  less 
legal  learning  than  his  companion. 

"  And  why  impossible  ?  Ours  is  a  public  work.  Our  char 
ter,  it  is  true,  declares  it  to  be  private ;  but  it  is  admitted  that 
our  labors  are  likely  to  be  productive  of  public  good,  and  would 
it  not  be  monstrous  if  a  single  citizen,  here  and  there,  should 
resist  a  measure  that  is  for  the  good  of  the  whole." 

"  True,  there  is  something  in  that,"  said  Horsey  ;  •*  but  is  it 
so  clear  that  we  can  take  private  property  at  pleasure  for  the 
public  good  ?" 

"Certainly  —  the  majority  declares  what  is  for  the  public 
good,  and  makes  the  law  accordingly." 


412  BORDER   BKAfJLKS. 

"But  —  the  constitution  —  what  does  the  constitution  stand 
for  then  —  of  what  use  ?" 

"  Nay,  I  don't  know  that.  For  my  part  I  never  did  see  the 
use  of  a  constitution  at  all ;  and  it  is  clear  to  me,  that  it  could 
be  of  no  sort  of  effect  against  our  company,  if  we  can  only  get 
a  charter  for  it.  That  we  can  do,  if  we  only  pay  two  or  three 
lawyers  handsomely,  and  secure  a  few  of  the  most  famous  ora 
tors  at  a  fine  salary.  They'll  gull  the  flats  by  fine  speeches 
which  shall  prove  to  them  that  they're  the  most  noble,  patriotic 
folks  under  the  sun;  and  we'll  pick  their  teeth,  while  their  jaws 
are  on  the  stretch,  listening  to  these  fine  sayings.  Two  to 
one  on  it,  Horsey,  that  in  a  year's  time,  the  state  will  lend  us 
a  million  to  begin  with,  and  take  stock  in  the  great  Mis 
sissippi  Shaksperean  and  Thespian  company,  to  three  times 
that  amount." 

"I'm  not  so  sanguine,  Jones,"  said  the  other,  "but  I'm  sure 
if  it  would  do  so,  the  stock  would  be  a  cursed  sight  better  than 
that  of  half  of  these  banks  and  railroads.  As  for  the  banks,  it's 
clear,  they've  swamped  all  the  planters;  and  as  for  the  rail 
roads,  I  reckon  we  shall  have  to  leave  them  in  the  swamps, 
where  they'll  stick  for  ever.  Your  plan,  I'm  afraid,  is  almost 
too  grand  a  one.  Something  on  a  smaller  scale  now,  would  be 
more  likely  to  be  successful. 

"  Lord  love  you,  Horsey,  my  dear  fellow,  you  know  nothing 
about  our  people  when  you  talk  so.  It's  nothing  but  grand 
schemes  that  go  down  with  them.  They  can  only  understand 
the  incomprehensible  —  they  can  only  admire  what  is  beyond 
their  calibre.  Tell  them  of  small  schemes  which  are  possible 
and  practicable,  and  which  might  yield  them  moderate  profits 
and  be  of  some  service,  and  they  will  turn  up  their  noses  in  dis 
gust.  They  despise  little  projects.  But  get  up  a  grand  Reli 
gious  Steam  Association  ;  or  a  company  for  connecting  Pensacola 
with  San  Jacinto  by  means  of  chain  or  floating  bridges ;  or  a 
line  of  Balloon  Stages  to  the  North  Star,  or  a  Patent  Process 
for  Converting  Bad  Planters  into  Great  Merchants  —  propose 
some  such  moderate  matters  to  them  as  these,  and  they'll  take 
stock  directly.  They've  lately  formed  a  society  in  New  England 
for  keeping  the  peace  among  I  lie  potentates  in  Europe,  and 
there's  not  an  old  wom.-m  in  ;iil  tl.r  villages  that  don't  subscribe 


NEW  READINGS  IN  OLD  PLAYS.  413 

a  shilling  weekly  to  prevent  Louis  Philippe  from  kicking  the 
emperor  of  Austria,  and  arrest  the  czar  in  his  indecorous  at- 
rempts  to  void  his  quid  in  the  face  of  Sultan  Mahmoud.  That's 
%  society  now  that's  likely  to  be  profitable." 

The  outlaw  was  about  to  pass,  by  a  very  natural  transition, 
from  the  consideration  of  these  grand  and  patriotic  modes  for 
picking  the  pockets  of  the  people,  to  a  short  analysis  of  the 
half-exploded  and  vulgar  methods  of  doing  the  same  thing  a? 
practised  in  ancient  times.  He  was  prepared  to  show  that  the 
old  highway  custom  of  bidding  a  true  man  "  stand  and  deliver," 
was  altogether,  and  happily,  abrogated  by  such  small  legal  pro 
cesses  as  are  more  comprehensively  described  under  the  general 
designation  of  charters.  It  would  have  been  very  easy,  indeed, 
for  one  so  well  versed  in  the  inquiry  as  himself,  to  show  —  what 
the  reader  is  already  prepared  to  believe  —  that  the  "Border 
Beagles"  were,  indeed,  "  chartered  libertines"  of  the  same  class; 
yet,  as  they  did  not  transact  business  on  a  scale  so  magnificent, 
and  as  they  were  rather  less  ostentatious  in  their  operations, 
they  could  not  so  openly  challenge  the  admiration  of  mankind. 

It  caused  the  worthy  outlaw,  indeed,  a  sigh,  when  he  reflected 
that  all  that  was  necessary  to  enable  the  company  under  whose 
authority  he  performed  his  operations,  to  become  shrined  in  the 
admiration  and  estimation  of  the  people  from  the  Tar  river  to 
the  Colorado,  was  a  simple  instrument  under  the  hands  of  a 
state  legislature,  which  a  fine  orator  could  readily  procure,  and 
a  docile  representation  would  delight  to  grant.  A  change  of 
name  might,  indeed,  be  necessary,  and,  perhaps,  a  declaration 
of  objects  slightly  differing  from  that  which  were  in  reality  en 
tertained.  A  people,  it  seems,  who  are  fitted  for  self-govern 
ment,  must  yet  have  its  expenses  concealed  from  their  sight, 
and  its  penalties  disguised  under  the  name  of  pleasures.  "  Bor 
der  Beagles"  was  a  good  name  —  easily  articulated  —  but  to  get 
a  charter  for  far  more  increased  operations,  it  might  be  neces 
sary  to  change  it  into  something  of  a  more  imposing,  and  less 
vague  signification  —  "The  Great  Southwestern  Transportation 
and  Specie  Deposite  Company,"  would  be  a  longer  and  more 
specific  title  —  long  and  loose  enough  to  obtain  charters  from 
*ny  six  states  in  the  Union 

Jones  was  full  to  overflowing  with  these  ideas  and  their  trib 


BORDER   BEAGLES. 

utaries ;  but  Horsey  was  something  less  of  a  moralist  and  poli 
tician  than  the  outlaw ;  and  his  undisguised  yawns  soon  ap 
prized  his  companion  of  the  necessity  of  returning  to  the  ground 
from  which  they  had  episodically  departed.  Even  the  estab 
lishment  of  great  houses  for  stage-playing,  were  as  nothing  to 
the  play  itself,  in  the  imagination  of  the  actor ;  and  when  his 
attention  flagged  in  considering  the  former  it  revived  with 
double  force  and  interest  when  the  latter  topic  was  resumed. 

Jones  professed  himself  tired  of  law  and  morality,  and  begged 
that  Horsey  would  restore  the  tone  of  his  mind  by  a  specimen. 
One  specimen  begat  two,  two  begat  three ;  specimens  produced 
varieties  of  readings  in  favorite  passages ;  and  in  twenty  min 
utes,  with  a  patient  and  applauding  auditor,  Hamlet  was  "  him 
self  again."  Never  had  he  read  so  well  before  —  never  had  his 
action  been  so  flexible  and  felicitous. 

"  Cautiously,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Jones,  with  a  warning 
voice  —  "cautiously,  and  trim  the  boat — she  dips  already,  and 
it  won't  take  much  to  cover  her  bends." 

"Yes,  yes!"  impatiently  replied  the  actor,  "I  see — I'll  take 
care ;"  and  then  he  returned  to  his  theme,  which  had  been  the 
discussion  of  one  of  the  readings  of  a  favorite  actor. 

"  Now  you  see,  Mr.  Jones,  in  the  reading  of  that  passage, 
Forrest  is  clearly  wrong  :  — 

"  '  Hang  out  our  banners!' 
he  says  with  an  exclamatory  pause ;  then  adds, 

"'On  the  outward  walls, 
The  cry  is  still  they  come.' 

Now,  why  should  he  depart  from  the  old  style  of  reading,  which 
is  thus :  — 

" '  Hang  out  our  banners  on  the  outward  walls ; 
The  cry  is  still  they  come!' 

Why  should  we  suppose  that  the  coming  of  the  enemy  is  only 
announced  on  the  outward  walls  ?  The  cry  is  everywhere  — 
the  whole  castle  hears  it.  Macbeth  himself  announces  it,  he 
being  within  the  Castle  at  the  time.  In  this  reading  the  passage 
is  without  sense.  The  truth  is,  that  the  intelligence  having 
reached  Macbeth  that  the  enemy  is  still  coming — a  fact,  which 
his  previous  confidence  in  the  weird  sisters  has  led  him  to  doubi 


NEW    HEADINGS    IN    OLD    I'LAYs.  ii5 

—  he  gives  those  orders  which  would  be  given  even  now  by 
every  commander  :  '  It  is  time  to  hang  out  our  defiance  —  they 
have  come  near  enough  to  see  it.  It  will  show  them  that  we 
are  prepared  for  them  —  it  will  show  our  own  people  that  we 
do  not  fear  the  foe/  It  was  not  customary  to  hang  out  the 
banners  except  on  occasions  of  state  and  danger.  In  old  times, 
banners  were  more  costly  things  than  they  are  now.  They 
were  covered  with  gold  and  blazonry  of  a  very  rich  and  perish 
able  character.  Even  now,  they  are  never  hung  out  except 
in  cases  of  ceremony,  or  in  the  expectation  of  actual  conflict 
They  are  kept  carefully  within  the  castle  till  the  approach  of 
the  foe,  and  then,  with  the  soldiers,  advanced  to  the  walls.  The 
same  scene  in  which  this  passage  occurs,  describes,  as  stage  di 
rections,  the  entry  of  Macbeth,  with  drums  and  colors,  within 
the  castle,  followed  by  Seyton  and  the  soldiers.  They  were 
then  about  to  go  forth  to  the  defence  of  the  walls,  the  sentinels 
on  the  watcb  having  warned  them  that  the  time  for  actual  con 
flict  was  now  at  hand,  and  the  hanging  the  banner  on  the  out 
ward  wall,  was  the  only  mode  by  which  the  proper  defiance  of 
the  defenders  Avas  to  be  displayed." 

"  Clearly  you  are  right,"  said  Jones,  whose  turn  it  was  new 
to  yawn. 

4<  Now  for  that  famous  and  much-disputed  passage — 

"  '  She  should  have  died  hereafter.' " 

"  Mind  the  boat,"  remonstrated  Jones,  who  felt  his  little 
cockleshell  becoming  momently  more  and  more  capricious  under 
the  increasing  earnestness  of  the  actor. 

"  Ay,  ay  !"  said  the  other,  reciting — 

"  '  She  should  have  died  hereafter  ; — 

There  would  have  been  a  time  for  such  a  word, 
To-morrow,  and  to-morrow,  and  to-morrow "* 

"  By  Jupiter !  Horsey,  we  shall  be  over  if  you  don't  be  very 
careful." 

"No  fear  —  no  fear!"  said  the  actor  impatiently,  as  be  hiur 
ried  with  the  passage — 

"'And  to-morrow,  and  to-morrow, 

Creeps  in  this  petty  pace,  from  day  to  day, 
To  the  last  syllable  of  recorded  time; '" 


416  BOUDKU    liKAliLKS. 

Jones,  at  this  recorded  time,  was  constrained  to  give  all  his 
attention  to  the  trim  of  his  boat. 

"'And  all  our  yesterdays,'" 

Proceeded  the  actor  with  the  solemn  sententiousness,  and 
gloomy  moral  reflection  of  the  tyrant  at  this  period,  when  the 
last  evils  of  life  were  accumulating  about  him,  making  him 
"sick  at  heart."  He,  florsey,  was  as  thoroughly  blind  to  tho 
•vrigglings  of  the  outlaw,  as  the  outlaw  was  now  become  indif 
ferent  to  the  readings  of  the  actor. 

'*  By  G-d  !"  muttered  the  former,  we  shall  have  a  capsize. 

"'And  all  our  yesterdays  have  lighted  fools 

The  way  to  dusky  death.     Out,  out,  brief  candle!'" 

Here  the  action  of  Horsey  verified  the  apprehensions  of  the 
outlaw.  "  That  putting  out  of  the  candle  did  the  business," 
said  Jones,  afterward. 

"  Life's  but  a Phew  !"  The  water  rushing  into  Horsey 's 

ears,  nose,  and  mouth  at  this  moment,  put  an  effectual  extin 
guisher  upon  the  sad,  moral  reflection  of  Macbeth,  and  ended 
the  new  reading  of  the  much-disputed  passage.  The  boat  went 
over  in  spite  of  all  the  outlaw's  efforts  to  maintain  her  equilibri 
um,  and  Macbeth  ended  his  speech  by  a  puffing,  plunging,  and 
blowing,  which  might  have  done  honor  to  the  wind-bags  of  a 
porpoise. 

"Phew  !  Jones  —  what  the  devil's  the  matter?"  was  his  cry, 
as  he  rushed  to  the  top  of  the  muddy  river. 

"'Out,  out,  brief  candle!'"  exclaimed  Jones,  struggling  to 
the  banks.  "  I  warned  you,  Mr.  Horsey  —  I  warned  you  several 
times." 

"  Warned  me  !     How  warned  me?  —  warned  me  of  what?" 

"  Of  tilting  the  boat." 

"  The  devil  you  did  —  I  never  heard  you." 

"'Life's  but  a  walking  shadow,'"  said  Jones,  repeating  a 
fragment  of  the  passage ;  "  but,  however  shadowy,  you'll  find 
A  difficult  to  walk  where  you  are.  While  you  have  life  for  it, 
Mr.  Horsey,  you  must  strike  out  —  the  water's  at  least  twenty 
feet  over  your  head." 

"  So  I  find,"  replied  the  actor,  striking  for  the  shore.  With 
some  difficulty  he  scrambled  up  the  oozy  elevations,  borrowing 


CATASTROPHE    OF    HAMLKT.  417 

from  the  liberal  banks  as  he  went,  a  portion  of  then  capital  at 

every  step. 

"Good  G-d,  Jones  — my  Hamlet!"  exclaimed  the  unfor 
tunate  histrion,  surveying  the  ruined  garment,  which  had 
swallowed  up  so  many  goodly  bales  of  his  father's  cotton 
"My  Hamlet  —  a  splendid  black  silk  velvet  jacket,  fly-trunks, 
and  mantle  —  magnificently  bugled  —  cost  me,  at  Stubh's,  thu-e 
hundred  and  sixty  dollars  — and  now  utterly  ruined.  D-- 11 
the  boat  — that  1  should  have  trusted  myself  in  such  a  trap  ns 
that !" 

"Don't  be  angry,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Jones,  with  a  grin 
which  conveyed  very  equivocal  consolation.  "  Once  under  way, 
and  you  will  soon  be  able  to  replace  it,  I  trust.  That  scheme 
of  ours  —  the  Grand  Mississippi  Shakspereari  and  Thespian 
Company — " 

"Look  you,  Mr.  Jones,  don't^alk  to  me  of  schemes.  Let's 
go  back  where  I  can  get  my  bags.  I  must  change.  I  feel  like 
a  drowned  rat.  I'm  as  slimy  as  an  eel.  It'll  take  me  a  week's 
washing  to  get  this  d d  ooze  out  of  my  hair." 

"  No,  no  !  not  half  so  long,"  said  the  other,  "  I  was  once 
much  longer  in  the  mud,  and  got  clean  in  three  days." 

This  was  said  with  great  gravity.  Horsey  looked  suspiciously 
upon  the  speaker,  and  for  the  first  time,  a  Intent  notion  seemed 
to  waken  in  his  mind  that  he  had  been  quizzed  a  little ;  but, 
just  at  this  moment,  his  eyes  were  attracted  to  the  opposite 
banks. 

"'Gad,  Jones,  I  must  hide  —  there  are  women  yonder.  Who 
are  they  ?" 

The  actor  stole  behind  some  stunted  bushes,  from  which  he 
peeped  out  upon  the  distant  cavalcade. 

"  That's  Brown  Bess  —  Bess  Yarbers,  as  I  live  —  and  that's 
my  Juliet  —  my  pretty  Mary  Clay  ton!  —  Eh!  Jones,  am  I  not 
right  1  What  the  devil  do  they  want  here  1" 

"  Hush !  Come  to  join  our  company,  I  suspect,"  replied 
Jones,  with  some  anxiety  in  his  voice. 

"  'Gad,  I'm  glad  of  it,"  exclaimed  the  actor,  with  a  delight 
which  made  him  quite  forget  the  hurts  of  his  Hamlet.  ^'  That 
Mary  will  make  the  loveliest  Juliet,  the  sweetest  Ophelia,  tlie 
dearest  Desdemona  that  ever  was  smothered  when  ;b/  should 


BOKUEK 

have  been  kissed.  I  told  Bess  to  make  an  actiess  of  her-  1 
knew  what  she  could  do.  It's  a  great  acquisition,  Jones.  I'll 
go  and  meet  'em." 

"What!  in  that  trim  ?" 

"Ah,  d — n  the  boat!"  was  the  bitter  exclamation  of  the 
enthusiastic  actor,  as,  sinking  back  into  his  place  of  conceal 
ment,  he  suffered  the  new-comers  to  pass  from  sight,  and  impa 
tiently  waited  the  moment  when  Jones  might  deem  it  proper  to 
permit  of  their  return  to  the  encampment. 

The  latter  busied  himself  in  recovering  the  boat,  which  had 
drifted  a  mile  below,  and  was  only  kept  from  the  embraces  of 
the  Mississippi  by  the  branches  of  a  fallen  tree,  among  which 
it  got  entangled.  By  dint  of  swimming  and  wading,  the  out 
law  recovered  it,  and  Horsey  was  with  difficulty  persuaded  to 
resume  his  seat  in  a  fabric,  in  which  he  could  use  no  action,  and 
accordingly  could  not  speak.  ^*To  deny  him  to  suit  the  action 
to  the  word,  was  to  make  him  dumb  ;  and  equally  soaked,  silent, 
and  sad,  the  luckless  actor  suffered  himself  to  be  paddled  back 
to  the  place  whence  he  set  forth,  only  consoled  under  his  mis 
fortune  by  the  reflection  that  he  should  soon  see  the  lovely 
little  damsel  in  whose  sight,  it  may  be  said  in  this  place,  he  had 
found  quite  as  much,  or  even  more  favor,  than  she  had  found 
in  his. 


JUSTICE   IN    THE   SWAAli-. 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

JUSTICE    IN    THE    SWAMP  —  TALL    SWEARING  —  MOLE    PRACTICE 

"  This  subtle  world,  this  world 
Of  plots  and  close  conspiracy." — SHIRLEY 

BUT  Horsey  soon  found  it  was  no  such  easy  matter  to  behold 
this  damsel.  The  course  of  true  love  was  not  permitted  to  run 
smooth  in  his  case,  any  more  than  in  that  of  Romeo.  It  was 
not  the  policy  of  Jones  to  suffer  the  actor  to  come  in  contact 
with  the  Yarbers  family.  He  knew  the  intimacy  which  already 
existed  between  him  and  Brown  Bess;  and,  as  the  reader  may 
have  seen,  the  adherence  of  John  Yarbers  to  the  brotherhood, 
did  not  imply  any  attachment  of  his  wife  in  the  same  quarter. 
Awkward  revelations,  for  which  the  fraternity  were  not  yet 
prepared,  might  have  resulted  from  a  meeting  of  that  dame 
with  Horsey ;  and  Jones  made  his  arrangements  accordingly  to 
prevent  it. 

But  Jones  could  not  be  everywhere,  however  ubiquitous  may 
have  been  his  desires ;  and  Brown  Bess,  by  some  means,  found 
out  that  Horsey  was  at  Cane  Castle.  She  probably  had  caught 
a  glimpse  of  him  as  he  emerged  from  his  oozy  bath,  in  the 
.vaters  of  the  Chitta-Loosa;  or,  as  is  equally  probable,  John 
Tarbers  was  partially  in  the  habit  of  serving  two  masters.  He 
nay  have  shared  some  of  the  secrets  of  the  beagles,  with  his 
larger,  if  not  his  better  half.  How  she  arrived  at  her  knowl 
edge,  however,  is  very  unimportant  to  our  narrative.  It  is 
enough,  that,  once  possessed  of  this  knowledge,  all  the  strate 
gics  of  feminine  policy  were  put  in  exercise  to  defeat  the  un 
charitable  designs  of  Jones. 

It  was  not  a  mere  female  curiosity  which  Bess  sought  to 
gratify  in  once  more  desiring  to  see  the  actor.  Far  from  it. 
Othei  and  more  serious  desires  filled  her  mind  and  the  evi- 


420  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

dent  admiration  —  however  strangely  shown  —  with  which 
Horsey  regarded  her  daughter,  had  inspired  her  with  the  hope 
of  connecting  Mary  Clayton  with  better  fortunes,  and  less 
doubtful  family  connections,  than  those  to  which  she  had  un 
happily —  and  to  do  her  justice  —  unwittingly  bound  herself. 

Horsey  was  a  wild  chap  —  that  she  knew;  but  his  heart  wnj- 
in  the  right  place,  and  he  was  the  son  of  one  of  the  most  RU!I 
stantial  of  the  small  planters  in  Mississippi.  Old  John  Horsey 
had  what  he  possessed  of  property  free  from  debt,  and  was, 
therefore,  more  independent  than  most  of  his  class.  As  lie 
owed  nothing,  he  ha'd  no  favors  to  ask  of  the  Brandon  bank, 
and  could  keep  back  his  cotton  till  a  favorable  market.  Alas  ! 
for  Mississippi  —  nay,  for  half  the  southwest  —  that  his  policy 
had  not  been  more  general  among' the  agriculturists  of  that  re 
gion.  The  debtor  is  everywhere  at  the  mercy  of  his  creditors, 
and  we  are  all  debtors. 

But  a  truce  to  this ;  and,  to  sum  up  in  brief,  Brown  Bess  con 
trived  to  find  a  way  to  the  actor.  There  was  a  moment  when 
the  outlaw,  to  whom  Cane  Castle  was  given  in  charge,  during 
the  absence  of  the  master-beagle  of  the  band,  was  necessarily 
withdrawn ;  and,  seizing  upon  this  moment,  the  persevering 
dame  sought  Horsey  with  success.  At  this  interview,  the  pool 
actor  was  utterly  overwhelmed  by  the  tidings  which  he  heard. 
At  first,  indignation  seized  upon  him  to  think  how  he  had  been 
imposed  upon  and  laughed  at ;  and  he  was  for  seeking  the  out 
law,  and  punishing  him  in  the  midst  of  the  encampment.  But 
the  cooler  woman  checked  these  ebullitions  of  mortified  vanity 
and  impatience.  She  showed  him  the  danger  of  this  proceed 
ing,  and  counselled  him  to  a  policy  as  deep  and  quiet  as  that  ->f 
the  beagles.  Under  her  direction,  arrangements  were  made  fur 
his  escape;  and,  wisely  leaving  all  these  to  her,  our  actor,  now 
considerably  sobered  on  the  subject  of  his  grand  steam  coinpain 
of  theatricals,  in  which  the  state  was  expected  to  subscribe  s< 
largely,  was  content  to  play  second  fiddle  for  awhile  in  lhi> 
political  duet. 

Perhaps,  he  was  the  more  readily  reconciled  to  this  inferior 
position  by  the  presence  of  a  third  person,  who  had  been  judi 
ciously  provided  to  appear  ;;t  the  nick  of  time  by  the  calculating 
Mrs.  Yarbers.  This  was  Ma  TV  C  lav  ton. 


JUSTICE    JN    T11E   S\VAMi'.  421 

the  mot  ir  might  have  made  what  arrangements  she  pleased. 
That  n-*-hing  should  be  wanting  to  her  schemes,  she  made 
a  way  w  +h  herself  after  awhile,  leaving  the  two  children  to 
gether --the  babes  in  the  wood  —  Horsey  being  as  much  a 
ctreamh'3  boy  and  as  full  of  heart  and  enthusiasm,  as  if  he 
never  l-*d  known  any  of  the  world's  experience ;  and  Mary  — 
poor  Mvy  —  as  simple  of  soul  and  innocent  of  mind,  as  the  ad 
hesive  dependent,  and  docile  daughter  of  Polonius  herself. 

It  iras  strange  with  what  rapidity  the  moments  flew,  when 
these  *>wo  were  left  together.  There  —  in  that  deep  and  quiet 
wood  —thickly  shaded  by  the  intricate  forests,  that  had  never 
echo'  i  to  the  dull  cleaving  blow  of  the  destroying  axe  —  on  the 
edge  of  that  dark,  mysterious  water,  and  with  no  sounds  in  their 
ears  but  those  which  seemed  to  invite  them  to  mutual  sensi- 
bilii'es  —  sounds  of  birds  and  insects  that  hummed  beside  and 
abo-re  them,  without  any  regular  song,  and  with  efforts  that 
see'ned  to  imply  wakefulness  and  not  work  —  life,  rather  than 
exertion  —  the  hearts  of  the  twain,  in  which  the  fire  had  been 
famed,  if  not  kindled  into  flame,  before,  now  warmed  with  a 
mutual  ardor,  and  gushed  freely  with  the  sweet  waters  of  a 
mutual  affection. 

"  It  will  do,"  \vas  the  whisper  of  the  mother  of  the  girl,  as 
t?  rough  the  leaves  of  a  copse  on  one  hand,  where  she  had  con- 
c  uiled  herself,  she  saw  the  ardent  amateur  impress  —  having 
r  ot  the  fear  of  Ned  Mabry  in  his  eyes  —  his  second  kiss  upon 
( ae  lips  of  the  trembling  and  very  much  frightened  damsel ; 
t,,nd  heard  his  pledges  of  love  and  his  promises  of  marriage. 
l.rhen  the  old  dame  contrived  to  reappear  and  separate  the 
parties. 

The  very  day  on  which  Saxon  bore  away  Virginia  Wilson  to 
he  recesses  of  Cane  Castle,  our  amcrous  actor  might  have  been 
;een  on  old  "  dot-and-go-one,"  his  father's  steed,  with  Mary 
"lay  ton  perched  behind  him,  going  as  fast  as  his  passions  could 
Irive,  and  his  decrepit  steed  would  permit,  in  the  hope  of  find- 
ng  a  convenient  magistrate  willing  to  officiate  for  love  in  a 
turry,  after  the  fashion  of  the  Gretna  blacksmith. 

The  policy  of  Dame  Bess  might  be  supposed  rather  censa- 
.•able  by  the  very  staid  and  starched  prudes  of  a  irietropolitau 
;  but  let  them  not  bite  their  thumbs  too  inveteratelv.  The 


itili  I'-OIIDKU    1IKACLKS. 

o!<l  lady  wa  I*PSH*«»IJS  of  Lifttin^  licr  lovc-lv  daughter  out  of  the 
swamp,  and  freeing  her  from  that  miserable  connection  with  a 
clnn  of  robbers,  from  which,  under  existing  circumstances,  she 
could  not  free  herself.  She  was  anxious  to  marry  her  to  a  man 
of  family  and  substance,  and  she  knew  that  she  could  trust  the 
honor  of  Horsey,  to  transact  the  business  of  Hymen,  according 
to  the  state  laws  on  that  subject  made  and  provided.  She  could 
have  wished,  it  is  true,  that  the  affair  might  have  been  conducted 
with  more  deliberation,  and  under  her  own  eyes;  but  as  this 
could  not  be  the  case,  she  was  too  wise  a  woman  to  suffer  such 
matters  to  stand  in  the  way  of  primary  objects;  and,  counsel 
ling  the  couple  how  to  keep  the  narrow  road  on  the  swamp, 
which  would  lead  them,  by  a  short  ten  miles,  to  Squire  Nawls', 
she  sent  them  off,  with  a  God-speed,  to  be  happy  after  a  fashion 
that,  however  constantly  practised  for  six  thousand  years,  has 
not  yet  fallen  into  disuse. 

One  incident,  which  occurred  before  the  departure  of  Horsey 
from  Cane  Castle,  should  not  be  unnoted.  While  yet  utterly 
undreaming  of  the  revelations  subsequently  made  by  Brown 
Bess,  and  while  still  perfectly  persuaded  that  he  was  member 
only  of  a  brotherhood  of  Thespians,  who,  if  ignorant,  were  yet 
innocent,  the  enthusiastic  amateur  found  an  opportunity  of  ma 
king  his  way  to  the  presence  of  Florence  Marbois.  Regarding 
her  as  the  prima  donna,  the  great  gun,  the  tragic  muse  of  the 
company,  he  could  not  refrain  —  though  counselled  to  beware 
of  the  weapon  of  her  husband,  whom  Jones  described  as, 
"worse  than  a  Turk  for  jealousy"  —  from  contriving  an  inter 
view  with  one  from  whose  great  powers  he  promised  himself  no 
small  support  in  the  personation  of  his  loftier  characters.  The 
play  at  cross-purposes  between  them  which  followed  this  inter 
view  was  as  mysterious  to  both,  as  it  would  have  been  ludicrous 
to  a  spectator  at  all  aware  of  their  true  history.  Horsey  ad 
dressed  her  as  Lady  Macbeth,  or  Portia,  or  Constance,  and  she 
replied  to  him  in  Rich  language  as  would  have  suited  well  the 
auditories  of  a  conscious  knave.  The  poor  actor  was  utterly 
confounded,  and  did  not  feel  at  all  satisfied  with,  however  much, 
as  an  amateur,  he  might  admire,  the  lofty  scorn  which  looked 
out  from  her  eyes,  and  the  contemptuous  language  which  rose 
upon  her  lips,  in  reply  to  all  his  high-flown  speeches.  She 


JUSTK'K    IX    THK    S\V  \  Ml  -.  *^t. 

sooner  comprehended  liis  tmc  ]M:sit;i  i:  th;r,i  lie  hers.  IVin.-ijiS 
she  had  some  inkling  of  the  truth  before. 

"  You  are  mistaken,  sir,  in  me,  if  not  in  yourself.  You  have 
been  imposed  upon,  and  are  in  a  den  of  thieves,  from  which 
you  had  best  escape  as  soon  as  possible.  Leave  me,  sir." 

"  But,  my  dear  Mrs.  Clifford,"  was  the  objurgatory  opening 
of  the  bewildered  actor. 

"Clifford!  Begone,  sir  —  you  are  mad.  I  tell  you,  you  are 
among  knaves  and  thieves.  You  are  gulled,  imposed  upon. 
Go  home  to  your  parents." 

"'Was  ever  woman  in  such  humor  wooed  I'" 

was  the  slowly-spoken  sentence  of  Horsey,  as  the  haughty 
Florence,  after  this  scornful  counsel,  withdrew  from  his  presence. 

Two  hours  after  this  interview,  he  was  made  to  comprehend 
its  true  meaning  and  the  manner  in  which  he  had  been  played 
upon,  by  the  more  painstaking  and  common-sense  personage 
whom  he  was  about  to  select  as  a  mother-in-law.  It  might  not 
have  been  so  easy  for  her  to  subdue  the  wrath  which  her  reve 
lations  excited  in  his  mind,  had  it  not  been  for  her  lovely 
daughter  ;  and  that  movement  of  the  maternal  tactician  which 
left  the  two  children  to  their  own  cogitations.  The  result  of 
these  cogitations  we  have  seen,  in  the  departure  of  the  happy 
pair,  riding  double  on  "  dot-and-go-one,"  in  search  of  the 
country  squire. 

But  one  thing  qualified  the  otherwise  unmixed  joy  of  the 
actor  in  this  novel  situation.  It  was  the  necessity  of  leaving 
his  saddle-bags  behind  him,  with  the  best  of  his  theatrical 
wardrobe.  This  necessity  occasioned  some  serious  fears,  but 
the  better  baggage  which  filled  its  place,  soon  reconciled  him 
to,  if  it  did  not  make  him  absolutely  forgetful  of,  his  loss. 

Let  us  now  return  to  Harry  Vernon,  whom  we  left,  attended 
by  the  faithful  Jamison  and  the  two  constables,  on  his  way  to 
Mr.  Justice  Nawls,  to  undergo  his  examination  for  the  murder 
of  Thomas  Horsey,  Esquire/ 

The  justice  was  a  plain  farmer-looking  person,  very  ignorant 
of  books  and  refinement,  but.  with  some  knowledge  of  men  and 
things,  which,  on  the  borders  of  every  country,  is  by  far  the 
better  sort  of  knowledge.  He  came  out  of  his  iiclds,  anJ  in  the 


424  HORDE II    II EAGLES 

same  condition  in  \vliicli  lie  used  Ins  line,  l.e  t*;ii  down  to  make 
his  examination.  He  was  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  which  wore  rolled 
up  to  the  elbow ;  his  bosom  was  bare,  and  none  of  the  cleanest ; 
and  the  perspiration,  discolored  by  the  dust  through  which  lie 
had  been,  stood  in  dark  dots  upon  his  cheeks  and  forehead. 

What  a  lecture  on  American  jurisprudence  would  have  been 
written  by  that  profound  spinster.  Harriet  Martineau,  or  that 
profound  sea-attorney,  Captain  Basil  Hall,  or  that  social  mar 
tinet,  Colonel  Hamilton,  could  they  have  been  present  at  this 
examination.  Justice  Nawls  had  no  need  of  books,  or  statutes, 
or  authorities,  and  still  less  occasion  did  he  seem  to  have  for 
tablets  and  a  clerk.  The  proceedings  were  summary  enough. 
There  were  two  sly  fellows  who  swore  to  several  suspicious 
circumstances  against  our  hero.  It  was  proved  that  Horsey 
and  Vernon  were  seen  together  last  —  that  the  time  of  their 
separation  was  unknown  —  and  that,  a  short  time  after,  poor 
Horsey  was  found  in  the  woods  bored  through  with  bullets, 
dirked  in  sundry  places,  his  ribs  literally  riddled  and  laid  bare 
—  and  his  bloody  coat  and  breeches  were  finally  produced  in 
damning  confirmation  of  this  tragedy. 

Such  was  the  testimony  of  Augustus  Mortimer  and  Edward 
Montmorenci.  The  alias  of  a  rogue  is  usually  a  very  ear- 
taking  concatenation  of  syllables  ;  and,  par  parenthese,  what  an 
adroit  rascal  is  Davy  Hines,  the  celebrated  South  Carolina 
swindler  (all  rascals  are  celebrated  in  North  America,  while 
great  statesmen,  orators,  poets,  and  actors,  are  simply  notorious), 
in  the  selection  of  his  temporary  iwin  Je  guerre.  He  is  for  the 
nonce,  an  Allston,  a  Hamilton,  a  Hutledge,  a  Beikely,  a  Single 
ton,  or  a  Livingston.  Sometimes  he  condescends  to  be  a 
Hayne,  or  a  Benton,  and  he  has  even  been  known,  on  trending 
farther  east,  to  contract  himself  into  a  Webster  or  an  Adams. 

Colonel  Augustus  Mortimer  swore  with  singular  precision 
and  confidence,  and  Major  Marcus  Montmorenci  followed  him 
Vernon  examined  these  two  worthies  with  the  utmost  care  and 
vigilance,  but  they  were  as  impenetrable  as  they  had  shown 
themselves  incorrigible.  They  just  swore  to  enough  to  place 
the  offence  at  his  door,  without  committing  themselves  by  the 
positive  asseveration  that  they  had  seen  him  do  it.  They  were 
old  practitioners,  in  one  form  or  other,  in  half  the  courts  of 


JUSTICE   IN   THK   SWAMP.  4'2o 

Mississippi  ami  knew  all  the  quirks  of  justice,  however  little 
they  might  have  really  cared  about  itb  piii.dplcs. 

Poor  Vcrnoii  was  in  a  quandary.  He  saw  that  Squire  Nawls 
could  do  no  less  than  commit  him,  on  the  strength  of"  the  testi 
mony  offered  ;  and  though  this  testimony  fell  short  of  convicting 
him  of  the  offence,  he  yet  could  not  but  feel  that  the  refined 
rascals  whose  deposition  had  been  just  taken,  had  wrought 
him  some  very  troublesome  meshes,  from  which  it  would  not  be 
so  easy  to  extricate  himself  upon  trial.  Still  the  awkwardness, 
if  not  the  danger,  of  his  own  situation  troubled  him  less  than 
his  particular  arrest  at  such  a  moment.  There  was  the  affair 
of  Carter,  his  friend,  which  he  was  anxious  to  bring  to  a  con 
clusion  which  might  save  him  as  well  as  the  miserable  father  of 
the  very  lovely  Virginia.  And  she — just  won,  and  so  soon 
lost.  Ah  !  reader,  if  you  have  a  heart  at  all,  and  have  not 
forgotten  all  the  love-passages  of  your  boyhood's  days,  think 
of  the  thousand  privations  involved  in  that  separation. 

If  Vernon  was  annoyed,  poor  Jamison,  his  Alabama  friend, 
was  utterly  confounded  at  the  aspect  of  his  affairs.  Unwilling 
to  believe  tlie  youth  guilty,  for  whom  he  had  taken  a  liking  as 
extreme  as  sudden,  he  was  yet  staggered  by  the  closeness  of  the 
testimony  against  him  —  the  nice  linking  together  of  the  circum 
stances  as  declared  by  the  joint  evidence  of  Messrs.  Mortimer 
and  Mortrnorenci,  and  the  grave,  deliberate,  and  very  genteel 
appearance  of  those  worthy  witnesses.  It  was  in  vain  that  he 
added  to  the  cross-examination  of  Vernon,  as  many  questions 
as,  in  his  sagacity,  he  thought  might  be  instrumental  in  bringing 
out  a  difference  in  their  statements.  His  efforts  were  more 
perplexing  to  himself  than  to  the  witnesses,  and  with  a  groan 
that  came  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  and  was  almost  a  growl, 
he  gave  up  all  further  attempts  at  examination.  So,  also,  did 
Vernon  himself,  and  Justice  Nawls  proceeded  to  write  out  and 
sign  the  commitment  of  the  prisoner,  for  further  and  final  trial 
—  a  manual  performance,  not  so  easy  to  one  whose  skill  in  pen 
manship  was  of  that  "  d d  cramp"  sort,  which  bothered 

Tony  Lumpkin. 

The  deed  was  done,  however,  and  the  constables  were  just 
beginning  to  bustle  about  for  the  resumption  of  their  charge,  in 
conveying  Vernon  to  prison,  when  a  hubbub  was  heard  without 


4^0  BORDER    iii-;.\«;i.i     . 

and  the  accents  of  a  voice  which,  to  the  oar  of  our  hero,  seemed 
no  less  sweet  than  familiar. 

"  Now  is  the  winter  of  our  discontent  made  glorious  summer," 
cried  one  from  without. 

"  By  heavens  !"  exclaimed  Harry  Vernon,  "  that  is  Mr.  Hor 
sey  himself." 

"  So  it  is,  Harry,  my  boy,"  cried  the  actor,  rushing  in  and 
bearing  on  his  arm  the  shrinking  form  of  the  half-affrighted 
Mary  Clayton,  whose  cheeks,  glowing  with  the  deepest  tints  of 
the  carnation,  betrayed  the  mingled  effects  of  a  ten-mile  ride 
with  her  lover,  and  the  not  unpleasant  novelty  which  she  felt  to 
exist  in  such  a  situation. 

"Who  else  but  Horsey,"  exclaimed  the  delighted  actor — 
"  who  but  the  young  Lochinvar,"  and  he  concluded  by  singing 
a  stanza  from  the  popular  song  of  that  name,  by  which  he 
communicated  the  tenor  of  his  love-adventure,  and  the  reason 
of  his  appearance  with  his  fair  companion. 

"  They'll  have  fleet  steeds  that  follow,  Harry,  my  boy,"  he 
continued,  "  though,  truth  to  speak,  had  they  started  as  soon  on 
the  chase  of  old  Bowline,  as  they  did  after  Lochinvar,  Tom 
Plorsey  would  have  won  no  bride  to-day.  You  recollect  my 
little  Juliet,  Harry? — Mary  Clayton?  Come  forward,  Mary  — 
don't  be  shy  —  don't  be  scary  —  it's  Mr.  Vernon,  that  came  with 
me  to  your  house  —  Mr.  Harry  Vernon;  and  there's  the  squire 
that's  to  make  us  man  and  wife  —  and  these  gentlemen,  why  I 
take  it,  they're  all  friends  to  a  frolic  and  a  good  fellow,  when 
he's  about  to  go  off,  like  a  comedy,  in  a  happy  ending." 

"  Mr.  Horsey,  I  was  never  more  rejoiced  to  see  any  one  in 
my  life,  than  I  am  to  see  you,"  said  Vernon.  "  You've  come 
at  the  most  providential  moment  for  my  safety." 

"Your  safety!" 

"Yes  —  I  am  here  before  the  magistrate  charged  with  mur 
dering  you." 

"  The  devil  you  say  !" 

"However  strange,  it  is  no  less  than  truth.  Squire  Nawls, 
let  me  introduce  to  you  my  friend,  Mr.  Thomas  Horsey,  of 
Raymond,  the  gentleman  with  whom  I  travelled,  and  whom  I 
stand  suspected  of  having  killed.  You  see  that  as  he  is  alive 
I  can  not  have  murdered  him." 


JUSTICE   IN   THE  SWAMP.  427 

Squire  Nawls  looked  bewildered,  and  turned  inquisitively  to 
Messrs  Mortimer  and  Montmorenci.  An  incredulous  and  sar 
castic  smile  sat  upon  the  countenance  of  the  first  named  of  these 
gentlemen.  A  brief  pause  followed. 

"  You  see,  gentlemen,"  continued  Vernon,  turning  to  them 
also,  "  that  the  body  which  you  found  and  buried  was  that  of 
some  other  person,  and  the  clothes  which  you  have  shown — " 

w  Were  those  of  Mr.  Thomas  Horsey,  and  no  other,"  said  Mr 
Augustus  Mortimer,  with  the  utmost  coolness,  and  a  quiet,  im 
perturbable  composure,  that  absolutely  shocked  the  Alabamian, 
whom  the  promise  of  a  change  in  the  color  of  Vernon's  fortunes 
had  provoked  to  a  shouting,  cheering,  and  dancing,  which,  for 
several  moments,  utterly  banished  silence  and  slat  el  in  ess  from 
the  hall  of  justice. 

"  That  is  not  Mr.  Thomas  Horsey,"  continued  Mr.  Mortimer  ; 
"  we  buried  the  poor  young  gentleman  with  our  own  hands. 
Did  we  not,  major  ?" 

Major  Montmorenci  confirmed  this  statement,  by  a  conclusive 
nod  to  Justice  Nawls. 

"  The  devil  you  did  !"  exclaimed  Horsey,  utterly  aghast  with 
the  reckless  hardihood  with  which  the  lie  was  spoken. 

"  Yes,  poor  fellow  !  he  lies  in  the  wood,  a  little  way  beyond 
the  lower  fork  that  leads  to  the  two  ferries." 

"  The  devil  he  does !"  continued  the  actor,  with  increasing 
astonishment,  as  he  listened  to  the  manner  in  which  his  body 
/as  disposed  of. 

"  Yes,  we  can  show  you  the  grave  at  any  moment.  We  cut 
i'.£  name,  T.  IT.,  with  the  year,  in  the  bark  of  a  beech  that 
^auds  over  the  spot." 

"  You  were  very  good,"  said  Horsey. 

"  No,  no,  not  at  all ;   it  was  only  common  charity  !" 

"  Pray,  my  good  fellow,"  said  Horsey,  dropping  the  arm  of 
Mary  Clinton,  and  crossing  over  to  where  Mr.  Augustus  Morti 
mer  stood,  on  the  left  hand  of  Justice  Nawls,  and  looking  him 
in  the  face  with  as  much  curiosity  as  astonishment  —  "pray, 
my  good  fellow,  who  may  you  be  —  what  may  be  your  name] 
I  am,  in  truth,  very  anxious  to  know." 

"Augustus  Mortimer,  Esq.,"  was  the  calm  reply,  "son  of  the 


428  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

Hon.  Bannister  Mortimer,  judge  of  the  United  States  district- 
court,  in  West  Tennessee." 

"You  are,  are  you? — and  yon,  sir"  —  to  the  other  witness 
—  "pray,  oblige  me  with  your  name  and  connections?" 

The  answer  was  equally  prompt  and  civil. 

"  Major  Marcus  Montmorenci,  last  from  Virginia,  a  late  set 
tler  in  the  Choctaw  purchase." 

"  And  you  are  sure,  gentlemen,  that  you  buried  Thomas 
Horsey,  of  Raymond,  under  a  beech-tree  on  the  lower  road  to 
the  ferry,  and  it  was  over  his  body  that  you  were  good  enough 
to  mark  T.  H.,  with  the  year  —  perhaps  you  put  a  death's-head 
and  cross-bones  above  the  inscription?" 

"  No,  sir,  we  put  nothing  but  the  initials,  and  the  year ;  and 
we  did  not  cut  them  as  well  or  deeply  as  we  could  have  wished, 
owing  to  the  dullness  of  our  knives,"  said  Mr.  Mortimer. 

"  And  you  are  sure  that  it  is  my  body — that  is,  the  body  of 
Tom  Horsey  —  that  you  so  charitably  put  from  sight  in  that 
place  ?" 

"  Very  certain." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?" 

"  Oh,  my  dear  sir,  these  questions  are  very  unnecessary  and 
your  manner  is  somewhat  offensive.  When  I  tell  you,  that  my 
poor  friend.  Tom  Horsey,  was  seldom  out  of  my  sight  and  com 
pany  for  a  spell  of  four  years  at.  least,  that  we  lived  together, 
travelled  together,  and  slept  together  at  different  and  long  peri 
ods,  you  certainly  can't  doubt  that  I  ought  to  know  him." 

"  And  you,  sir,  have  been  equally  intimate  ?" 

"Equally,"  said  the  more  sententious  Montmorenci. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  describe  the  expression  of  Horsey 's 
face,  as  he  hearkened  to  these  cool  asseverations,  and  marked 
the  stolid  composure  of  the  two. 

"  Really,  gentlemen,  you  must  excuse  me,  if  I  ask  a  few  more 
questions.  The  Horsey,  who  is  dead,  and  whom  you  buried 
—  did  he  look  anything  like  me?  There  is  some  mistake  — 
some  deception  in  this,  Squire  Justice  —  which  I  must  find 
out." 

"  Nothing,"  said  Mortimer. 

"  Nothing,"  said  Montmorenci. 

"And  yet,"  said  the  former,  looking-  at   Montmorenci,  with  a 


JUSTICE   IN   THE   SWA  Mr.  429 

grave  inquisitiveness,  "don't  you  think  there  is  something  in 
this  gentleman's  chin  that  looks  like  poor  Tom's  "I" 

"  Why,  yes  —  there  is  a  something  —  a  — 

"A  sort  of  split  —  a — " 

"  There's  no  split  in  my  chin,  gentlemen,"  exclaimed  Hor 
sey,  stroking  the  misrepresented  member  —  "it's  as  smooth  and 
round  as  any  chin  in  company." 

"  Oh,  sir,  we  don't  mean  to  say  that  they're  alike  —  but  there 
was  a  something — " 

"Yes,  only  a  something  —  that  is,  they  were  both  chins,"  said 
Horsey;  "for  that  matter,  don't  you  think  that  we  had  other 
features  in  common  ?  How  about  eyes,  nose,  head,  and  hair  ? 
—  pray,  gentlemen,  oblige  me,  by  answering  closely.  The 
question  is  important,  I  assure  you." 

"  Well,  now,  sir,  to  speak  plainly,  you  are  nothing  like  our 
poor  friend,  Tom  Horsey.  Tom,  though  an  excellent  fellow  as 
ever  lived,  was  monstrous  ugly;  now,  if  I  were  asked  my  opin 
ion,  I  should  say  you  are  a  very  good-looking  sort  of  person." 

"  Indeed  !  I  thank  you  —  so  Tom  Horsey  was  ugly,  was  lie  ? 
Squire  Nawls,  do  me  the  favor  to  marry  me  with  Mary  here, 
at  once,  and  while  I  have  some  remaining  confidence  in  my  own 
identity.  If  I  talk  much  longer  with  these  rascals,  I  shall  begin 
to  look  upon  Tom  Horsey  as  a  dead  man.  I  suppose,  if  she 
takes  me  as  Tom  Horsey,  you  can  have  no  objection  to  give  me 
that  name  till  the  ceremony's  over;  and,  after  that,  it's  just 
what  you  please  about  the  trial.  Harry  Vernon,  don't  think  I 
am  indifferent  to  your  concerns,  my  boy ;  but  Mary's  here 
alone  with  me  —  a  sort  of  runaway  match  you  see,  though  we 
have  the  mother's  consent  —  and  I  sha'n't  be  easy  any  more 
than  bersdTf,  till  she  has  a  lawful  right  to  look  to  me,  and  I 
have  my  lawful  rights  as  well  as  herself.  There  may  be  an 
other  Tom  Horsey,  but  I  don't  believe  it,  and  I  know  he  can't 
be  Tom  of  Raymond.  Those  breeches  and  that  coat  are  mine, 
though  how  they  came  so  bloody  and  holy  is  past  my  telling, 
They  were  stolen  from  me  in  the  Big  Black  swamp,  as  the 
newspapers  say,  by  some  scoundrel  or  scoundrels  unknown. 
I  don't  say  you  stole  'em,  Colonel  .Vortiiner,  or  you,  Major 
Montmorenci,  but  1  intend  to  make  you  show  how  you  got  'em. 
if  there's  any  justice  in  Mississippi.'1 


j::H>  BOKOKH   I;K.U,L::- 

The  answer  of  those  worthies  was  wad*  in  high  head  .and 
with  some  show  of  valor  and  defiance;  but  this  Horsey,  whose 
regards  were  chiefly  given  to  Mary  Clayton,  at  this  moment,  did 
r.ot  seem  to  heed. 

"All  in  good  time,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  after  the  ceremony's 
over.  I  invite  you  to  remain  till  then  ;  though,  in  your  ear, 
let  me  tell  you,  I  look  on  you  to  be  as  arrant  a  pair  of  liars  as 
ever  wagged  a  Munchausen." 

Squire  Nawls  was  better  skilled  in  that  department  of  his 
business  for  which  Horsey  demanded  his  present  aid,  than  in 
any  other  of  its  requisitions.  He  saw  no  reasonable  objection 
to  giving  the  actor  a  wife  as  Thomas  Horsey,  though-,  in  the 
next  moment,  he  refused  his  own  evidence  as  such,  to  prove 
himself  alive.  No  assertions  that  he  could  make,  no  proofs  that 
he  could  offer,  could  impair  the  positive  and  sweeping  testimony 
of  the  two  witnesses,  or  disturb  the  settled  decision  which  the 
justice  had  made  before  he  came  ;  and,  in  equal  fury,  the  actor 
and  the  Alabamian  listened  to  the  regrets  with  which  he  sought 
to  mollify  his  resolve,  to  commit  the  supposed  murderer  of  Tom 
Horsey  to  prison.  Before  Nawls  came  to  this  conclusion,  how- 
cver  —  for  the  dull  country-justice  had  been  somewhat  con 
founded  by  the  contretemps  of  the  dead  man's  reappearance  — 
he  was  compelled  to  retire  in  private  conference  with  Mr. 
Augustus  Mortimer,  a  minute's  talk  with  whom  wae  quite 
enough  to  set  him  on  his  legs. 

"  Let  him  be  Tom  Horsey,  or  the  d — 1,  it  matters  nothing  to 
you.  You  have  the  evidence  of  two  witnesses  that  Horsey  is 
dead,  and  you  might  go  farther  and  arrest  this  fellow  as  an  im 
postor.  Though  we've  no  instruction  to  do  so,  yet  it  might  lie 
good  service  to  the  beagles.  Your  account  is  easily  squared 
with  the  state's  attorney  — there's  the  proof  on  which  you  com 
mitted  Vernon  to  prison,  and  that's  enough.  Send  him  en  his 
way,  and  let  Cane  Castle  do  the  rest.  I'll  engage  you  novel 
hear  of  him  again  from  that  quarter." 

The  commitment  of  Vernon  was  accordingly  made  out  and 
delivered  to  the  two  emissaries  of  Saxon,  in  whose  custody  he 
had  been  left  before.  They  had  their  instructions  as  well  as 
Nawls,  and  they  knew  if  ho  did  not,  that  the  unfortunate  youth 
was  reserved  for  the  sacrifice  by  those  whose  secret  haunts  he 


JUSTICE    l.N 


was  supposed  to  have  invaded  as  a  spy,  and  whose  practices  of 
crime  he  had  been  commissioned  to  arrest  and  punish. 

Meanwhile,  the  keen,  searching  mind  of  Vernon  had  discovered 
the  true  circumstances  and  secret  of  those  difficulties  by  which 
he  was  involved.  While  he  was  under  the  impression  that  Hor 
sey  had  really  been  murdered,  he  had  little  cause  to  think  him 
self  the  object  of  an  organized  plan  of  injustice  or  detention. 
But  the  reappearance  of  the  actor,  and  the  revelations  which 
he  made  during  the  random  dialogue  which  took  place  on  the 
examination,  together  with  the  fact  that  his  clothes  had  been 
stolen,  mutilated,  and  made  bloody,  were  circumstances  of  suf 
ficient  strength  to  open  the  eyes  of  the  lawyer  to  the  whole 
hidden  truth. 

The  conviction  that  he  was  singled  out  as  a  victim,  and  that 
the  persons  around  hfcn  were  mostly  parties  to  the  conspiracy, 
strongly  impressed  him  with  the  necessity  of  being  as  cautious, 
yet  seeming  as  little  suspicious  as  possible.  A  look,  and  the 
significant  application  of  his  finger  to  his  lips,  at  a  moment 
when  Horsey  was  about  to  blurt  out  in  public  the  whole  bur 
den  of  his  discoveries  in  the  swamp,  fortunately  served  to 
check  the  torrent  of  his  speech,  and  to  impose  upon  him  the 
necessity  of  a  caution  like  that  of  Vernon,  whose  composure 
had  seemed  in  his  eyes  very  much  like  the  most  unmanly  tame- 
ness.  When  the  resolve  of  the  magistrate  was  made  kncnvn, 
Vernon  remarked  quietly,  without  any  show  af  anger  or  sus 
picion  to  the  justice  :  — 

"I  can  not  blame  you,  sir  —  as  a  lawyer,  I  should,  perhaps, 
say  that  you  have  done  nothing  but  your  duty.  There  is  evi 
dently  some  mistake  in  this  business;  for  this  I  know  to  be 
Mr.  Thomas  Horsey  from  Raymond,  who  was  the  only  travel 
ling  companion  I  had  from  that  place.  Still,  these  gentlemen, 
who  have  given  their  evidence,  may  know  another  of  the  same 
name,  who  has  unfortunately  been  murdered  as  they  state.  I 
do  not  gainsay  their  assertions  —  I  only  declare  my  innocence 
of  the  crime.  Still,  sir,  you  are  not  to  know  that,  and  could 
only  do  as  you  have  done.  One  privilege,  however,  I  must 
pray  to  be  allowed  —  that  of  writing  to  my  friends  in  Raymond 
and  elsewhere,  for  the  necessary  evidence  to  prove  my  inno 
cence  and  the  identity  of  this  gentleman.  If  you  will  suffer  me 


432  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

to  have  a  brief  private  conference  with  my  t\vo  friends  here, 
Mr.  Horsey  and  Mr.  Jamison,  I  will  provide  them  with  direc 
tions  for  seeing  to  this  business,  and  procuring  all  the  necessary 
proofs." 

This  small  favor  could  not  well  be  denied  to  a  man  in  such 
an  emergency.  The  calm,  respectful  deportment  of  the  pris 
oner,  his  forbearance  to  hint  or  even  look  any  of  the  suspicions 
which  he  really  felt,  deceived  the  witnesses  as  well  as  the  jus 
tice.  Looking  upon  it  as  certain  that  any  evidence  which  he 
might  procure  from  Raymond  would  come  too  late  to  affect  a 
trial  which  was  to  take  place  in  Cane  Castle,  and  to  be  as  sum 
mary  as  it  was  certain  to  be  secret  —  Mr.  Augustus  Mortimer, 
to  whom  Squire  Nawls  was  wont  to  refer  privately  in  all  cases 
of  especial  doubt,  recommended  that  his  prayer  be  granted. 

"  It  will  be  getting  these  fellows,  Jamison  and  Horsey,  out  of 
the  way  —  they  might  be  troublesome  —  and  before  they  get 
back  with  their  witnesses,  Cane  Castle  will  have  done  his  busi 
ness  beyond  any  Horsey's  undoing.  Let  'em  talk  together." 

"  And  what  are  we  to  do  for  you,  Harry  Vernon  ?"  demanded 
Horsey,  the  moment  they  reached  the  little  chamber  to  which 
the  courtesy  of  the  justice  had  permitted  them  to  retire.  "  Say 
the  word,  and  I'm  for  you, 

"  'To  the  last  gasp, with  truth  and  loyalty.'" 

In  less  classical  style  and  language  the  Alabamian  made  * 
like  offer  of  his  services  and  sinews. 

"  You  shall  say  yourselves  what  you  shall  do  for  me,  when  I 
tell  you  how  I  stand,"  said  Vernon.  "  I  am  in  the  hands  of 
outlaws  —  the  witnesses  who  swore  against  me  are  outlaws,  the 
constables  who  guard  me  are  outlaws,  and  the  justice  who  com 
mits  me  is  their  creature." 

After  this  startling  preliminary,  Vernon  proceeded  to  classify 
those  details  of  facts  —  those  floating  circumstances,  which, 
picked  up  from  sundry  quarters,  formed  the  groundwork  of  the 
faith  that  was  in  him. 

"  And  knowing  this,  you  took  it  30  patiently,"  was  the  joint 
exclamation  of  Horsey  and  the  Alabamian. 

"  Had  my  passions  been  suffered  to  play  as  freely  as  yours, 
Horsey,  Squire  Nawls  would  never  have  permitted  me  this 


JUDICIOUS    USE    OP    PERQUISSIOXS.  433 

interview.  B.it,  stay,  i  do  not  hear  their  footsteps  below  — 
they  have  ceased  walking  —  they  are  watchful.  Not  a  word 
now  above  your  breath,  gentlemen,  for  it  is  now  doubly  import 
ant  that  we  should  be  secret  as  the  grave.  Now,  then,  hear  me. 
You  are  both  strong  men,  and,  I  am  sure,  as  fearless  as  you  arc 
strong.  I  claim  your  help  in  a  matter,  which,  were  it  youi 
case,  should  freely  command  rny  own.  You  must  help  to  rescue 
me  from  the  clutches  of  these  fellows." 

The  hands  of  the  two  were  instantly  clasped  in  frank  arc) 
manly  assurance  upon  that  of  the  speaker. 


CHAPTER   XXXIX. 

JUDICIOUS     USE     OF     PKRQUISSIONS HOW     TO    CURRY     A    SHOPT 

HORSE  —  ECONOMICAL    USE    OF    GREEN    MOSS. 

"Come,  my  good  fellow,  put  thine  iron  on: — 
If  fortune  be  not  ours  to-day,  it  is 
Because  we  brave  her." — SHAKSPER& 

THE  reader  must  not,  however,  suppose  that  our  three  friends 
concluded  their  conference  with  this  vague  determination 
Vernon  was  too  good  a  politician,  too  keen  a  lawyer,  not  to 
see  that,  left  to  their  own  judgments,  Dick  Jamison  might  lose 
the  game 'by  his  rashness,  and  Horsey  by  his  frivolity.  Their 
dialogue,  which  was  somewhat  further  protracted,  was  carefully 
given,  on  the  part  of  the  former,  to  a  consideration  of  the  diffi 
culties  surrounding  him ;  and  to  the  necessary  steps  which  were 
to  be  taken  by  the  two  in  effecting  his  rescue. 

It  does  not  need  that  we  should  report  these  directions  in  this 
place,  but  leave  to  time,  which  usually  ripens  all  projects,  even 
those  which  events  baffle,  to  bring  about  its  natural  results  in 
this  case  as  in  all  others.  It  will  suffice  to  say  that  the  manner 
in  which  Vernon  carried  their  minds  forward,  step  by  step,  with 
his,  confirmed  in  him  that  tacit  superiority  which,  from  the  first, 
neither  of  them  had  seemed  willing  to  dispute.  If  Jamison 
regarded  him  as  a  fine  fellow  before,  he  now  looked  him  as  a 


•  j-i-  BDi.'DEK  BI;AGJ,ES. 

"  miglity  wise  one  ;"  and  the  importance  and  dignity  of  the  ne^v 
offices,  put  so  suddenly  on  his  hands,  seemed  to  elevate  the 
mind  of  our  actor  in  his  own  estimation.  He  had  never  been 
much  trusted  with  matters  of  importance  before ;  and  the  idea 
seemed  suddenly,  though,  perhaps,  imperfectly,  to  open  upon 
him  ;  that,  after  all,  Mr.  Aristophanes  Bull  was  not  so  great  a 
booby,  when  he  denounced  tragedies  as  not  -'•  ser'ous  things ;" 
certainly,  the  new  task  before  him  of  getting-  Veinon  out  of  his 
present  hobbles,  seemed  the  most  serious  business  of  any  to 
which  he  had  ever  yet  set  his  hand.  Not  that  Horsey  had  any 
scruples  or  apprehensions.  There  was  no  better  pluck  in  Mis 
sissippi  than  that  of  our  amateur.  But  he  had  just  entered 
upon  a  new  and  exquisitely-delicate  condition.  He  had  just 
formed  a  new  and  responsible  relationship  in  life;  and  when  he 
heard  from  Vernon  that  there  was  no  doubt  that  he  should  be 
hurried  off  that  very  evening  on  his  way  to  prison,  and  that 
any  attempt  to  rescue  him,  to  be  successful,  must  be  made  that 
very  night,  he  could  only  exclaim  with  a  tribulation  'in  his 
accents  and  countenance,  which  compelled  the  smile  to  the  lips 
of  his  two  companions : — 

"  But,  dear  me,  Harry  Vernon,  what  the  deuse  am  J  td  do 
with  Mary  ?" 

Vernon  had  not  been  inconsiderate  on  this  subject.  He  had 
prepared  himself  to  meet  this  difficulty,  and  by  his  counsel, 
Horsey  was  persuaded  to  make  application  to  Squire  Nawls  for 
a  temporary  lodging  for  his  new  wife,  until  he  could  procure 
facilities  for  conveying  her  home  to  Raymond.  This  pretext 
enabled  him  to  set  forth  that  very  evening,  and  simultaneously 
with  the  departure  of  Vernon  under  his  guard,  as  if  for  Luc- 
chesa,  where  he  proposed  to  find  a  horse  and  side-saddle  on 
sale. 

Nawls,  after  some  moderate  objections,  was  persuaded  by  a 
week's  board  paid  in  advance,  and  the  honeyed  arguments  of 
the  young  husband,  to  accede  to  the  proposed  arrangement ; 
and  this  matter  settled,  love  consented  to  waive 'all  further 
objections  to  the  quasi  warfare  which  implored  his  assistance. 

Vernon  communicated  to  both  his  companions  the  knowledge 
which  he  had  acquired  from  his  intimacy  with  Walter  Rawlmi 
and  the  methodist  Badger.  To  the  former  he  recommended 


JUDICJUU&    U.iL    ui-    i'KKgUlSr-lOXS.  -^;» 

thorn  in  the  event  of  their  failure  to  rescue  him.  As  a  sanction 
for  their  own  proceedings,  in  a  business  which  promised  to  in 
volve  a  great  deal  that  was  extra-judicial,  he  drew  from  his 
bosom  the  envelope  which  originally  contained  the  blank  corn- 
missions  of  the  governor,  intending  to  fill  the  blanks  with  their 
names,  and  thus  furnish  an  authority  which  would  not  only 
assist  them  in  commanding  means  for  acting  against  the  outlaws, 
but  sustain  them  in  their  use.  He  now,  for  the  first  time,  dis 
covered  the  robbery  that  had  taken  place  upon  his  person  —  a 
robbery  which  he  could  only  ascribe  to  the  practised  and  adroit 
hands  of  Saxon,  performed  while  he  was  insensible. 

A  bitter  smile  passed  over  the  lips  of  the  youth  as  he  made 
this  discovery,  and  traced,  with  rapid  thought,  the  connection 
of  event  with  event,  and  agent  with  agent,  all  co-operating  to 
the  same  end  —  his  entanglement  in  present  intricacies.  But 
the  resolution  of  Vernon,  his  sanguine  temper,  and  great  self- 
confidence,  conspired  to  make  him  still -hopeful  even  against  the 
large  odds  in  favor  of  the  beagle  confederacy.  Having  satisfied 
himself,  to  his  great  relief,  that  the  other  packet,  which  con 
tained  the  papers  of  Carter,  remained  in  its  original  integrity, 
he  determined  still  to  keep  it  in  his  possession ;  as  it  was  now 
fair  to  assume  that  the  outlaw,  convinced  that  he  had  obtained 
all  that  was  hidden,  and  that  he  had  found  a  sufficient  clue  to 
the  progress  of  Vernon,  would  never  dream  of  looking  ir*  the 
same  place  for  a  second  deposite. 

With  this  conviction,  he  ceased  to  feel  the  loss  of  the  one 
packet  as  a  very  serious  evil.  That  packet  involved  none  of 
his  confederates  —  none  of  his  friends.  He  alone  was  singled 
out  as  the  victim,  and,  bating  the  loss  of  the  commissions, 
which  might  be  perverted  to  evil  use  by  the  outlaw,  the  utmost 
extent  of  his  misfortune  was  already  known  in  his  own  capture, 
and  threatened  imprisonment,  if  not  murder. 

Vernon  was  not  insensible  to  the  risk  he  incurred  among  the 
outlaws,  as  one  whose  supposed  endeavor  had  been  to  expose 
their  haunts,  detect  their  doings,  and  entrap  their  persons.  He 
felt  that,  should  his  two  allies  fail  him  at  the  fortunate  moment, 
his  blood  would  probably  be  poured  out  in  some  lone  swamp 
fatness,  while  his  mangled  body  would  be  left  uncovered  to 
yield  a  midnight  repast  to  the  gaunt  and  famished  wolves,  that 


436 


BORDER    IJKAGLES. 


traversed,  at  that  period,  the  savage  and  uncultivated  bills  of 
the  Choctaw  purchase. 

These  were  annoying  convictions,  but  Harry  Vernon  was  a 
man.  He  spoke  none  of  his  apprehensions,  and  contenting 
himself  with  obtaining  from  Horsey  all  that  he  knew,  had  seen, 
or  beard,  while  in  Cane  Castle  and  with  renewing  his  instruc 
tions  on  all  matters  which  he  deemed  essential  to  the  successful 
prosecution  of  their  adventure;  he  presented  himself  to  the 
officers,  and  declared  his  readiness  to  go  with  them.  He  had 
clone  all  that  it  was  in  the  power  of  man  to  do  at  that  moment 
—  he  bad  exercised  the  closest  judgment  of  which  his  mind 
was  capable,  uninfluenced  by  his  own  feelings,  and  the  con 
sciousness  of  danger,  of  which  he  could  not  entirely  divest 
himself;  and  with  a  cheerful  manner,  and  a  resolute  spirit,  he 
left  the  rest  to  the  courage  and  conduct  of  his  friends,  under  the 
crowning  favor  of  Providence. 

These  did  not  desert  him.  Though  neither  of  them  very 
wise  men,  or  solid  counsellors,  Horsey  and  Jamison  were  yet 
men  of  great  nerve  and  composure;  strong,  as  we  have  shown,  of 
limb,  and  of  undoubted  energy  and  spirit.  In  their  plans  and 
schemes,  alone,  was  it  likely  that  they  might  fail ;  and  in  these 
respects,  the  forethought  of  Vernon  had  taken  every  precaution 
and  made  every  arrangement  that  might  be  done  by  him  under 
existing  circumstances.  His  directions,  which  contemplated 
even  the  particulars  of  the  scuffle,  with  his  robber-guardians, 
the  time,  the  manner,  and  the  probable  place,  were  ample,  if 
not  copious.  But  little  more  was  needed,  than  that  their  objects 
and  course  should  be  unsuspected,  that  their  horses  should  bring 
them  to  the  season,  and  their  hearts  not  fail  them  in  the  trying 
moment,  Of  course,  it  was  the  assumption  of  all  parties  at  the 
outset,  that  the  strife  was  to  take  place  with  the  two  outlaws, 
and  those  only,  who  had  served  as  officers  of  justice  from  the 
beginning. 

One  little  difficulty,  however,  started  into  sight  before  the)' 
left  the  presence  of  the  magistrate,  and  made  Vernon  tremble, 
for  an  instant,  in  doubt  of  all  his  schemes.  The  sturdy  rogues, 
his  captors,  having  no  more  to  say  in  respect  to  himself,  were 
disposed  to  annoy  his  friend  Jamison,  because  of  his  interposi 
tion  at  Lncchcsa  in  cutting  the  cord*  "'h'ch  bound  their  victim 


JUDICIOUS   US!-;   OF    i%lQUUSfOtt«,  437 

—  an  act -which  they  had  thru  called  a  rescue.  jn>d  which  they 
were  still  disposed  to  consider  so.  They  had  probably  consulted 
with  Nawls  on  the  subject,  while  Vcrrion  and  his  comrades  were 
planning  his  rescue  in  fact;  and,  with  the  sober  confidence  of 
veteran  knaves,  they  were  resolved  to  extort  a  reasonable 
amount  of  hush-money  from  the  sturdy  Alabamian,  while  in 
presence  of  the  justice. 

But  Jamison's  blood,  which  had  been  with  difficulty  restrained 
by  the  counsels  of  Vernon,  and  the  obvious  necessity  of  preser 
ving  a  large  degree  of  temperance  in  consideration  of  his  friend's 
predicament,  fired  up  at.  the  first  motion  of  the  rogues.  Know 
ing  them,  as  he  now  did,  to  be  the  most  impudent  pretenders  to 
official  sanction,  it  was  with  no  small  difficulty  that  he  restrained 
himself  from  declaring  aloud  all  that  he  knew,  ami  pouring  forth 
all  that  he  felt.  With  all  his  attempts  at  moderation,  his  speech 
was  certainly  of  a  character  to  show  but  a  very  limited  degree 
of  success  in  attaining  that  which  he  sought. 

"  Look  ye,  judge,"  said  he,  "  these  niggers  ought  to  be  licked 
for  tying  a  free  white  man  as  they  did.  I'm  the  man  to  lick 
'em  ;  let  'em  give  me  the  littlest  eend  of  an  opportunity.  I  was 
a-thinking  to  bring  it  afore  you  myself,  because  I'm  hopeful 
there's  something  in  the  law-books  to  make  ;em  sweat  for 
roping  a  white  man,  the  same  as  if  he  was  an  in^in  01  a  nigger; 
and,  if  there  ain't,  there  ought  to  be,  and  our  rip?  can't  put  it 
there  a  bit  too  soon.  I  did  take  out  my  bowie-knife,  list  as 
they  say,  but  'twan't  to  trouble  them  ;  though,  Lord  bless  you  ! 
'twouldn't  ha'  been  so  hard  a  matter  neither,  to  cut  'em  u|- 
mighty  small  as  they  run  ;  but,  as  I  don't  altogether  like  to  use, 
a  man's  weapon  upon  a  chap  that  shows  me  nothing  but  his 
back,  I  had  no  more  thought  of  troubling  them  with  it,  than  I 
have  of  troubling  you.  I  used  the  knife  only  to  cut  Joose  the 
rope;  and  all  that  was  wrong  in  that  business,  was  in  using  ,t 
weapon  that  was  bigger  than  was  needful,  and  that  made  two 
big  men  so  shameful  scary.  As  for  'resting  me  for  that,  squire, 
why,  all  that  I  can  say,  'twon't  do  for  them  to  try  it,  while  1'vo 
got  the  same  knife  yet,  and  to  the  back  of  it  a  couple  of  pair  i  / 
such  bull-mouthed  biters  as  these  here  pcrqvissions.  You've 
seen  the  new  perquission-o-uns,  squire'?  Well,  these  pistol*  are 
after  the  same  fashion.  IJWf.'s  four  of  them,  and  they're  a  wing 


488  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

or  two  quicker  in  the  shot  than  any  race-lightning.     One  pail 
of  these  pistols,  and  this  here  knife,  belongs  to  Mr.  Vornon  there 

—  and  I'll,  take  care  of  them  for  him  till  he  gets  out  of  jail. 
I'll  drop  the  rammer  down  their  throats,  and  you'll  see  they 
all  have  their  bellies  full  of  bullets      Now,  I'm   a  peaceable 
man,  squire,  for  one  that's  so  well  prepared  for  war ;   but,  if  I 
was  twice  as  peaceable,  and  only  half  so  well  off  in  perquission.s 
if  you  was  to  say  the  word  for  these  chaps  to  'rest  me,  which  1 
know  you  can't  do  as  a  gentleman  and  a  righteous  justice  — 
why,  I've  only  to  turn  one  of  these  perquissions  round  about 
among  the  company  —  now  here  on  this  one,  and  now  on  that 

—  and  as  there's  no  taking  aim  in  such  a  promisc'us  business, 
particularly  with  these  mighty  quick  perquissions,  I'm  almost 
afraid  to  say,  squire,  how  much  risk  you'd  run  yourself;  though 
I'm  hopeful  the  bullet's  far  off  that'll  ever  trouble  you.     'Twon't 
he  such  a  death,  squire,  as  I'd  have  you  die  of.     As  for  these 

—  look  at   'em,  squire,  how  they  dodge  —  look  at  'em,  Harry 
Vernon  !     Ha  !   ha  !  ha  !     That's  jist  the  way  they  were  scared 
at  Lucchesa — jist  the  way  exactly  ;  they  dodged  when  there 
was  no  sort  of  call  upon  'em  for  it.     Lord  love  you  !  my  lade,  if 
it  makes  you  so  squammish  when  I  only  p'int  the  thing  at  you, 
it   would    make    you    deathly   sick,   when    I    come    in    '{irnest. 
Squire,  let  me  go  home  to  my  business  in  a  civil  manner,  and 
don't  listen  to  these  re-diculous  fellows.     I've  done  for  Vernor 
all  that  I  reasonably  could  ;  and,  by  the  hocus,  I'll  be  at  court 
when   his  trial  comes  on,  and   if  it's  the  last  picayune  in  the 
pocket  of  Dick  Jamison,  or  the  last  blood  in  his  heart,  it  shall 
go  to  help  him  out  of  his  troubles.     If  I  hear  you  say,  I'm  not 
to  be  'rested  about  this  business,  well,  I'll  be  off  at  once,1  before 
night,  for  Lucchesa.     If  I'm  to  be  'rested  for  cutting  loose  a  free 
white  man,  that  was  tied  up  wrongfully,  say  it  as  soon, 'and  let's 
see  the  eend  of  it  at  once.     P'int  your  finger  now  which  way 
you  please,  and  I'm  ready,  any  side.     If  it's  civility,  well,  I'nr 
all  civility  — if  it's   for   a   close   hug,  tooth   and    timber,  win 
there's  not  a  bear  in  Loosa-Chitta,  that'll  come  to  the  scratcl 
with  rougher  arms  than  Dick  Jamison." 

This  interruption  consumed  some  time ;  and  long  speedier 
for  which  the  western  wanderers  are  rather  famous,  were  ns  fir 
quent  and  as  fine,  after  a  fashion,  as  half  of  those  listened  to  with 


JUDICIOUS    USE   OF   PEltgiJLssjo.v-.  439 

go  mucli  patience  by  the  nation — part icu];;ily  as  they  Lave  CO 
pay  for  them  —  at  every  session  of  Congress.  Vernon  con 
firmed  the  simple  statement  of  Jamison,  and  insisted  that  all  the 
violence  shown  on  the  occasion  was  no  more  than  was  required 
to  separate  the  bonds  of  a  prisoner,  who  made  no  attempt,  to 
escape,  and  professed  his  willingness  to  go  freely  with  the  officers. 
True,  this  was  a  rescue  in  legal  acceptation,  hut,  under  the 
circumstances,  not  such  a  one  as  would  render  a  prosecution 
necessary ;  and  Vernon  contended  for  the  point  the  more 
readily,  as  he  could  perceive  that  the  justice  desired  nothing 
more  than  a  loophole  by  which  to  escape  from  the  necessity  of 
taking  steps  against  a  man  who  had  avowed  such  levelling 
principles  —  we  had  almost  written  pistols.  The  pistols,  in 
deed,  were  the  principles  ;  and  no  effect  could  have  been  more 
ludicrous  than  that  which  Jamison  produced  upon  the  company, 
justice  and  officers,  as  with  a  huge  pistol  in  each  hand,  both  of 
which  he  cocked,  he  made  their  muzzles  describe  a  slow  circuit 
round  the  apartment,  allowing  them  to  rest  for  a  few  awkward 
seconds  whenever  the  line  of  sight  Avas  brought  up  to  the  face 
of  one  of  the  opposite  faction.  The  constables  dodged  with 
little  shame  or  scruple  on  such  occasions;  and  the  very  justice, 
it  is  painful  to  add,  though  he  did  not  allow  his  limbs  to  yield 
to  such  a  discreditable  weakness,  could  not  keep  his  eyes  from 
winking  with  singular  frequency;  and  his  cheeks  —  the  Ala- 
bamian  remarked  afterward,  with  a  singular  show  of  satisfac 
tion —  grew  whiter  than  any  clabber  that  he  ever  saw  or  swal 
lowed.  The  affair  was  compromised  by  the  justice  bestowing  a 
reproof  upon  the  offender,  to  which  lie  submitted  with  the  in 
difference  of  one  who  rightly  estimated  its  value. 

"  You've  got  to  say  it,  squire,"  said  he,  "  it's  your  business, 
and  you  can't  help  it,  and  that's  the  reason  I  let  it  pass  and  nav 
nothing.  But,  look  you,  Squire  Nawls,  if  you  wa'n't  a  justice, 
but  jist  a  common  man,  I'd  ha'  been  on  top  of  you,  and  through 
you,  afore  you'd  'a  half-finished  what  you've  been  saying.  If 
there's  any  one  thing  in  this  woild  that  I  never  could  like,  it's 
when  I'm  found  fault  with,  jist  at  a  time  when  I  know  that  I'm 
doing  the  very  thing  that's  right  —  and  then  to  be  spoke  to  on 
behalf  of  such  a  couple  of  small-souled  sappv-sticks  as  these-- 
Griin!  it  makes  me  all  bristles.  I  feel  wnify  in  twenty  piari-^. 


440  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

nnd — clang;  my  buttons,  jti'tl«rc,  if  the  tiling  was  to  be  done  ovei 
agin,  'tvvouldn't  be  the  rope  only  that  my  kuii'o  would  slit  —  if 
I  wouldn't  cut  a  juglar  or  two,  there's  no  snakes  in  all  Alabam." 

It  was  with  a  feeling  of  relief  that  Nawls  and  his  two  emis 
Garies  beheld  this  sturdy  democrat  take  his  departure.  ITe  set 
out  as  if  for  Lucchesa,  accompanied  by  the  amateur,  whose  part 
ing  with  his  young  wife  was  equally  dramatic  and  characteristic* 
thoagh  still  full  of  genuine  feeling.  Resolved  on  having,  in  this 
Border  chronicle,  as  little  of  the  lachrymose  mood  as  possible, 
we  refrain  from  the  tears  and  tenderness  shown  on  the  occasion. 
Our  readers  of  the  gentler  sex,  will  please  suppose  that  the  omis 
sion  is  ours  only  ;  —  had  they  seen  the  happy  couple  at  the  part 
ing  moment  —  had  they  heard  the  low  but  passionate  tones  and 
sweet  assurances  of  Horsey,  and  witnessed  the  embrace,  and 
seen  the  face  of  Mary  buried  in  his  bosom,  and  hearkened  to 
her  half-suppressed  sobs,  which  spoke  of  hope  and  joy  rather 
than  any  other  emotion  —  they  would  have  seen  that  there  was 
no  love  lacking  between  the  two  in  this  early  stage  of  their 
matrimonial  felicity.  Love,  however  —  domestic  love  in  par 
ticular —  is  proverbially  a  thing  of  short  stages;  and  the  sun 
which  is  warm  and  bright  to-day,  may  be  under  a  very  ugly 
cloud  to-morrow  ;  —  but  this  is  none  of  our  business  —  "  sufficient 
for  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof." 

Vernon  saw  his  friends  depart  with  some  anxiety.  His  own 
movements,  under  the  guardianship  of  the  tenacious  constables, 
followed  soon  after.  The  evening  shades  were  thickening  as 
the  party  set  forth,  and  grave  thoughts  become  gloomy  ones  in 
the  twilight  hour.  Those  of  our  hero  were  sad  ones,  at  least, 
and  they  restrained  his  natural  vivacity  of  temper,  if  they  did 
not  subdue  and  dispirit  him.  He  was  without  arms,  without 
present  friends  or  succor  —  accused  of  crime,  and  at  the  mercy 
of  criminals.  The  increasing  gloom  of  the  forest,  as  they  ad 
vanced  upon  their  way,  served  to  increase  the  cheerlessness  of 
his  situation,  and  to  give  an  oppressive  weight  to  those  doubts 
which  necessarily  came  with  his  very  hopes  and  anxieties. 
Horsey  and  Jamison  were  brave  —  but  might  they  not  miss  the 
route  taken  by  the  outlaw  —  might  they  not  fail  at  the  proper 
moment  ?  Precipitation  might  be  worse  than  halting  appre 
hension,  and  the  very  levity  of  the  former,  with  the  rough  and 


GOING  TO   PRISON.  441 

ready  boldness  of  the  latter,  might  serve  to  defeat  the  plans  of 
the  most  deliberate  and  thoughtful.  To  a  man  of  mind,  there  is 
nothing  so  productive  of  annoying  doubts,  as  the  dependence 
upon  mere  muscle. 

vernon  turned  for  some  sort  of  relief  to  his  attendants.  It 
was  advisable  to  disarm  their  watchfulness,  and.  if  possible,  t* 
impress  them  with  the  conviction  that  no  kind  of  doubt  of  their 
professed  character  had  as  yet  risen  in  his  mind.  To  seem  tr 
rely  upon  them,  as  peace-officers  of  the  country,  was  the  most 
effectual  way  to  assure  them,  that  he  was  perfectly  resigned  to 
their  custody,  He,  whom  they  well  knew,  was  guilty  of  no 
crime,  had  nothing  to  apprehend  from  the  awards  of  justice  ;  and 
the  mere  temporary  detention  of  his  person,  however  troublesome 
and  unpleasant,  was  not  so  great  an  evil  as  to  make  it  likely 
that  lie  would  incur  those  risks  to  avoid  it,  which  would  inevi 
tably  follow  any  violent  attempt  to  shake  it  off.  It  was  no 
hard  matter  to  engage  them  in  easy  conversation  ;  and  having 
paved  the  way  for  a  familiar  chit-chat  by  some  good-natured 
commonplaces,  Vernon  proceeded  to  carry  out  his  design  in 
the  way  that  he  calculated  would  be  most  likely  to  effect  it. 
He  inquired  of  them,  what  they  knew  of  the  two  men  who 
furnished  the  evidence  against  him ;  and  when  as  he  expected 
they  denied  all  knowledge  of  the  witnesses,  he  boldly  assured 
them,  that  they  had  sworn  to  utter  falsehoods. 

"  There  can  be  no  sort  of  doubt,"  he  said,  "  that  Mr.  Horsey 
is  alive  ;  and  that  is  he,  who  came  in  so  unexpectedly,  when 
the  case  was  going  on.  I  never  knew  any  other  Horsey,  save 
his  father,  in  my  life  ;  and  I  am  now  convinced,  that  these  two 
persons  have  uttered  what  they  know  to  be  untrue;  and  if  they 
dare  come  to  the  trial,  I  shall  convict  them  of  a  base  conspiracy 
against  my  life.  It  will  be  easy  enough  for  my  friends  to  bring 
proof  of  what  I  say,  and  of  my  innocence.  Indeed,  as  soon  as 
Horsey  and  Jamison  go  where  I  have  sent  them,  I  shall  come 
out  under  habeas  corpus.  But  these  scoundrels  shall  suffer  for 
their  malice,  if  there's  law  in  Mississippi. 

"  I  don't  know  —  may  be  so,"  returned  one  of  the  constables; 
"but  what  should  make  two  men,  whom  you  never  saw  before 
»wear  ag'in  the  life  of  another  ?  and  then  it  seems  mighty 
•trange,  if  so  be  the  man  that  come  to  be  married  was  the  raaJ 

19* 


44-  BONDER   BEAGLES. 

flursey —  it  seems  miglity  strange  he  should  pop  in  jist  at  that 
minute." 

"It  was  no  less  strange  to  me  than  to  you,"  replied  Vernon; 
'but  the  truth  is  not  lessened  by  the  strangeness  of  the  cir 
cumstance.  That  he  is  the  real  Horsey,  I  hope  to  show,  as 
ooon  as  my  frisnls  retarn  from  where  I've  sent  them.  As  for 
the  malice  of  these  two  witnesses,  that  I  confess  to  you,  is  as 
singular  and  surprising  to  me,  as  it  can  be  to  anybody  else 
I  never  saw  them  before  —  am  sure,  I  never  did  them  any  injury 
and—" 

"  But  why  should  you  call  it  a  conspiracy?" 

"  It  evidently  is  —  here  are  two  men,  whom  I  know  nothing 
of,  coming  forward  most  strangely,  to  swear  a  crime  against  me, 
which  I  never  did  commit." 

"  Yes — but  you  see,  we  are  not  to  know  that  —  Squire  Nawls 
ain't  to  know  that." 

"True  —  I  don't  blame  him.  He  has  done  nothing  more  than 
he  was  bound  to  do ;  but  I  am  speaking  of  the  two  who  have 
sworn  to  this  falsehood  —  why  they  should  —  for  what  reason  — 
with  what  hope  or  object — is  a  wonder  of  the  strangest  sort  to 
me." 

"  You're  sure  you  never  had  any  quarrel  with  them  before  ?" 

"  Never  saw  them  in  all  my  life." 

"  Well,  it  is  strange,  if  so  be  you  didn't  kill  Horsey  and  you 
never  had  a  quarrel  with  these  gentlemen,  that  they  should 
swear  ag'in  you.  You  ain't  made  no  enemies  of  anybody  1 
Beca'se  these  chaps  mought  be  employed  by  somebody  else." 

"  Not  that  I  know  of.  I've  quarrelled  with  nobody,  arid  have 
made  no  enemies.  Stay!— there  is  one  thing!"  exclaimed 
Vernou,  with  sudden  earnestness,  correcting  him  self  as  he  spoke; 
"  now  that  you  put  the  question,  I  am  reminded  of  a  circum 
stance  which  may  account  for  it." 

Here  he  proceeded  to  relate  the  event  recorded  at  an  earlier 
stage  of  our  narrative,  in  which,  while  rescuing  the  traveller, 
Wilson,  he  shot  the  outlaw  Weston,  who  was  astride  his  body. 

"  This  robber  might  have  friends  and  relatives,  who  have 
sought  in  this  manner  to  avenge  him." 

"  I  don't  think  that,"  said  the  rogues  with  one  breath.  "It 
would  be  more  apt  to  scare  his  friends  off,  and  if  they  was 


sKiNAt.S.  * 

rogues  themselves,  t  hcyM  Ur.r.w  Letter  than  to  eou:e  be  fore  a 
justice.  Squire  Nawls  is  a  mighty  keen  man  when  lie's  a  judg 
ing —  he'd  see  through  a  rascal  as  clear  as  a  whistle,  and  pick 
the  crooks  out  of  his  story  in  the  twink  of  an  eye.  No.  no  i  I 
reckon  there's  another  way  to  account  for  it.  We  don't  want 
to  git  you  to  confess,  Mr.  Varnon,  for  nobody's  bound  in  law  to 
tell  ag'in  themselves,  but  I  reckon  you  did  shoot  the  poor  man, 
though,  I  s'pose,  'twas  by  accident,  or  else  you  fou't  him  fairly, 
and  he  got  the  fling." 

Vernon  re-asseverated  his  innocence,  with  the  solemn  earnest 
ness  of  one  who  was  really  anxious  that  they  should  be  con 
vinced —  so  earnestly,  indeed,  and  with  such  warm  simplicity 
in  his  manner,  that  the  rogues  burst  into  a  good-humored  laugh, 
and  one  of  them,  clapped  him  civilly  upon  the  h.-u-k  while  he, 
expressed  the  hope,  that,  even  if  lie  did  kill  the  man,  he  should 
'pass  under  the  tree  without  sticking  fast  to  the  limb;"  or, 
as  it  is  sometimes  expressed,  that  he  should  "graze  the  timbers, 
without  becoming  dead  wood." 

It  was  just  at  this  moment  that  a  fault  whistle  reached  the 
ears  of  our  hero.  This  was  the  signal  agreed  upon  between 
himself  and  his  comrades;  and  circumstances  seemed  to  be 
particularly  favorable  to  their  project.  The  road  was  narrow 
—  a  mere  wagon-track  —  through  which  they  were  passing; 
night  had  set  fairly  in,  and  though  a  bright  star-light  whitened 
the  wide  arch  of  heaven,  but  a  faint  effusion  of  its  rays  guided 
our  travellers  along  the  dim  and  shady  paths  of  the  forest. 
To  maintain  a  more  certain  power  over  their  prisoner  —  whom, 
perhaps,  because  of  the  disgrace  which  had  followed  their 
first  attempts  to  cord  him,  they  had  not  bound  —  they  rode 
close  beside  him,  on  either  hand.  In  consequence  of  the 
narrowness  of  the  road,  this  mode  of  riding  brought  the  horses 
of  the  three  in  absolute  contact.  The  opportunity  was  too  grate 
fully  tempting  to  Vernon  and  his  heart  bounded  with  the  anxiety 
which  he  felt  during  the  brief  interval  between  the  first  and 
second  signal  of  his  allies.  That  second  signal  was  the  leagle- 
note.  With  a  conviction  that  the  robbers  who*  attacked  Wilson's 
carriage,  and  those  who  escorted  him  belonged  to  the  same 
gang,  Vernon  had  suggested  the  employment  of  this  imitation 
sound,  with  the  hope  of  misleading  his  guardians.  Tiie  whittle 


44  noiusri?  F.KACLFS. 

which  preceded  it,  was  s-hrvly  i:  m.i  to  ir.du-f.te  to  himself  the 
certainty  of  the  RubgequcTit  signal  being  given  by  his  friends, 
As  had  been  anticipated,  an  echo  from  the  right  hand  of  the 
prisoner  threw  back  an  answering  voice. 

There  somebody's  dog  in  the  swamp,"  said  one  of  the  rogues 
carelessly,  prefacing  with  these  words,  his  own  excellent  imita- 
no  i  of  the  cry.  Again  more  near  and  more  distinct,  came  the 
note  of  Jamison  who  proved  no  unworthy  beagle  whether  in 
voice  or  limb.  As  if  in  sheer  idleness  of  mood,  did  the  same 
outlaw  again  respond  to  it.  The  third  signal  from  the  Alabam- 
ian,  which  immediately  followed,  was  delivered  from  a  bush 
almost  beside  the  party  ;  and  at  the  same  instant,  the  two  consta 
bles  drew  up  their  horses,  setting  each  a  hand  on  the  rein  of 
Vernon's,  to  arrest  his  forward  movement. 

They  naturally  locked  to  a  meeting  with  their  comrades  ;  but 
were  surprised  in  the  next  moment,  as  Vernon,  yielding  his  rein 
entirely,  threw"  an  arm  round  the  waist  of  each  of  his  attendants, 
and  by  a  sudden  exertion  of  all  his  strength,  drew  them  to 
gether  before  him  upon  his  steed,  until  their  heads  clashed  with 
a  stunning  concussion  Before  they  could  recover  from  the 
shock,  draw  knife  or  pistol,  or  make  the  smallest  effort,  a  stout 
hand  from  below  had  relieved  Vernon  from  his  burdens ;  and 
the  self-appointed  officers  of  justice  found  themselves  let  down 
with  no  gentle  ministry  upon  the  earth,  which,  fortunately, 
being  on  the  skirts  of  the  swamp,  and  sufficiently  pliable,  man 
ifested  no  stubborn  resistance  to  the  reception  of  their  persons. 

The  surprise  was  as  successful  as  it  had  been  sudden  :  and 
while  a  stout  man  bestrid  each  of  the  prisoners  with  a  heavy 
and  bright  bowie  blade  pointing  down  and  sometimes  painfully 
tickling  their  throats,  Vernon,  having  secured  the  three  horses, 
proceeded  to  divest  the  rogues  of  all  their  weapons.  This 
done,  under  the  direction  of  Jamison,  who  had  taken  caie  to 
provide  the  necessary  plough-lines,  he  bound  their  arms  securely 
behind  them,  and  thus  fastened,  they  were  once  more  permitted 
to  rise  upon  a  level  with  their  captors. 

"  A  short  horse  is  mighty  soon  curried,"  said  Jamison,  when 
the  business  was  finished.  "  I  know'd  all  along,  Varnon,  that 
these  here  chaps  hadn't  any  pcrquission  in  their  guns,  and  it's 
now  what  \ve're  to  do  witb  'em.  That's  the  question.  They're 


HOW    TO    CUIIIIY    A    SIIOIiT    HORSE.  445 

to  be  lynched  I  reckon,  of  course ;  but  whether  to  lynch  'em 
here  where  nobody  can  get  any  good  from  seeing  it,  or  to  lynch 
'em  at  Lucchesa  where  it'll  be  a  warning  to  all  rogues,  and 
gamblers,  and  abolitionists,  that  haven't  the  fear  of  God  in 
their  eyes,  and  do  large  business  with  the  devil  —  that's  what  I 
ain't  yet  detarmined  about." 

To  lynching,  altogether,  Vernon  absolutely  objected ;  but  li? 
did  not  content  himself  with  uttering  moral  objections  only. 
With  such  a  man  as  Jamison,  such  scruples  might  nor  \\i\ve 
been  so  forcible  as  those  which  sprung  from  mere  momentary 
policy. 

"We  have  not  time  for  that,"  said  he  in  a  whisper,  ami  win-L 
out  of  hearing  of  the  captives.  "  Besides,  to  go  to  Lurches 
with  these  in  company,  before  we  have  beaten  up  the  whole 
gang  and  obtained  the  proper  evidence  of  their  villany,  will 
be  only  to  expose  ourselves  to  discovery,  prosecution.  and 
probably  punishment  by  the  laws ;  not  to  speak  of  private 
assassination  from  the  hands  of  some  of  the  numerous  outlaws 
with  whom  the  whole  country  seems  to  be  infested.  To  carry 
these  fellows  with  us  anywhere,  would  be  to  encumber  ourselves 
with  a  burden  that  would  be  troublesome,  and  may  be  dangerous. 
No  !  my  counsel  is  that  we  bind  them  to  trees  in  the  most  secret 
places  in  the  swamp  —  there  leave  them  till  we  can  muster  a 
sufficient  force  to  secure  them,  and  to  pursue  their  comrades. 
We  are  now  in  possession  of  one  of  their  signs,  and  if  we  can 
keep  these  fellows  from  communication  with  the  rest,  until  we 
can  penetrate  their  hiding-places,  we  may  capture  a  good  many 
more.  I  have  already  told  you  of  friends  on  the  other  side  of 
the  river.  We  must  join  ourselves  to  them  as  soon  as  possible. 
You  will  set  off  to-night.  You  know  all  that  I  can  tell  yon 
about  our  friend  Rawlins.  Horsey  and  myself,  meanwhile,  will 
ride  to  Lucchesa,  where  I  will  see  to  some  business  which  I 
have  with  Mr.  Wilson,  while  he  procures  a  horse  and  saddle 
for  his  wife.  With  him  I  will  join  you  to-morrow,  and  will: 
Rawlins,  who,  I  doubt  not,  by  this  time  has  got  a  pretty  strong 
party  together,  we  will  try  what  we  can  to  capture  the  master 
spirit  of  the  band.  If  we  take  him,  we  need  give  ourselves  but 
little  trouble  about  the  rest.  He  is  the  chain  that  binds  them 
together  — and  without  him,  they  fall  apart  without  stren 


success,  or  object.  We  will  rope  these;  scoundrels  to  trees, 
where  they  can  not  see  or  communicate  with  each  other,  and 
iest  they  should  employ  our  signals,  it  will  not  be  amiss  to  put 
a  handkerchief  in  their  mouths." 

"A  handkerchief  indeed!"  cried  Jamison  —  "that  would  be 
a  mighty  foolish  waste,  when  there's  so  much  fine  green  moss 
to  be  had  for  the  picking." 

The  economical  views  of  Jamison  prevailed,  and  the  mouth? 
of  the  struggling  prisoners  were  well  wadded  with  green  muss 
in  preference  to  silk  bandanas.  They  were  roped  to  trees  in 
deep  and  dark  recesses  of  the  swamp  ;  but  it  was  not  without 
great  reluctance,  that  Jamison  was  persuaded  to  turn  away, 
and  forbear  the  use  of  a  certain  bunch  of  hickories,  armed  with 
which,  he  had  prepared  himself  to  requite  the  rogues  for  the 
offensive  rebuke  under  which  he  had  been  compelled,  after  a 
fashion,  to  submit  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Justice  Nawls. 

Vernon  saw  that  he  was  dissatiried  with  the  forbearance  of  his 
friends  toward  the  criminals,  which  he  thought  as  little  due  to 
their  deserts,  as  to  the  cause  of  justice-  They  all  rode  from 
the  place  together  to  the  high  road,  but  the  Alabamian  way 
very  taciturn  as  they  went;  his  mind  seemed  to  be  brooding 
over  some  yet  undigested  purposes.  Their  parting  was  evi 
dently  hurried  on  the  side  of  Jamison ;  and  when  his  two 
friends  had  gone  from  sight  on  their  way  to  Lucchesa,  the  mat 
ter  that  troubled  him,  found  expression  in  words  aloud. 

"  Grim  !  But  I'd  sooner  sleep  in  the  swamp  myself,  than  let 
them  chaps  off  without  a  lid  ing.  Tain't  every  day  that  a 
rogue  gets  what  he  deserves,  and  'tain't  every  month  that  Dick 
Jamison  cuts  a  bunch  of  hickories  to  throw  away.  It  would 
be  a  most  monstrous  wasting  of  the  wood,  to  cut  a  dozen  hick 
ories  for  nothing  —  besides,  it's  a  mighty  great  resk  to  leave  the 
it-Hows  behind,  any  how  :  'spose  they  get  away  —  then,  where's 
:,:ie  satisfaction?  No,  no,  that's  not  my  notion  —  I  must  write 
•i  name  on  the  backs  of  the  critters,  so  that  I  may  know  V.u 
Again,  when  I  see  'em.  Then,  if  they  get  away,  'twon't  be  HO 
oad  ;  and  one  person,  that  I  know  of,  will  be  a  mighty  sight 
easier  in  his  conscience.  I  reckon,  if  I  didn't  lick  'em,  n:y 
horse  would  go  mighty  rough  over  the  road  to-night  —  1  know 
i  bhouldn't  sit  well  in  /.he  saddle,  and  my  spirits  would  be  a 


.\     1-TGillVU    AiliiKSTKi).  447 

cursed  sight  heavier  than  a  tat  parson's  after  a  bad  collection- 
Sunday." 

This  soliloquy  was  made  while  the  speaker  took  his  way 
back  to  the  spot  which  he  had  just  left.  We  need  not  add, 
that  he  carried  out  in  execution,  the  sentiments  and  resolutions 
which  it  expressed.  The  hickories  were  not  wasted ;  and, 
according  to  the  usual  ideas  of  border  justice,  in  all  parts  of 
the  world,  the  rascals  met  with  their  deserts.  Satisfied  with 
his  administration  of  the  border  law,  the  Alabamian  found  the 
movement  of  his  horse  and  conscience  equally  easy  while  he 
rode  upon  his  way  that  night.  He  sat  as  well  in  his  saddle  as 
ever,  and  a  heavy  load,  for  the  time-being,  was  taken  from  his 
;  -heart. 


CHAPTER   XL, 

A  FUGITIVE  ARRESTED GRAND  BEAGLE  HUNT  IN  PREPARATION. 

"Take  him  to  ye, 

And,  sirrah,  be  an  honest  man  ;  ye've  reason , 
I  thank  ye,  worthy  brother:  Welcome,  child, 
Mine  own  sweet  child."  —  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHKR 

THE  impatient  Saxon,  impatient  for  his  revenge,  vainly 
looked  out  that  night  for  the  coming  of  his  followers,  to  whom 
Vernon  had  been  given  in  charge.  His  arrangements  had  been 
so  made  as  to  put  his  plans,  seemingly,  beyond  the  reach  01 
disappointment ;  and,  resolved  effectually  to  arrest  the  furthei 
efforts  of  an  individual,  whose  courage  and  conduct  gave  him 
some  reason  for  apprehension,  he  had  prepared  himself  and  his 
accessories  in  the  swamp,  for  the  summary  and  terrible  punish 
ment  of  one,  whom  they  considered  a  spy,  and  had  destined  to 
those  ciuel  severities  which,  under  their  laws,  had  been  decreed 
for  such  an  offender.  The  evils  which  had  followed  the  success 
ful  attempt  of  Richard  Hurdis,  had  mortified  the  vanity  of  Saxon 
—  or  Clement  Foster  —  and  rendered  him  unforgiving.  From 
the  moment  when  he  became  convinced  that  Vernon  was  ac 


448  BORDER    BEAGLES. 

enemy,  he  had  solemnly  sworn  to  destroy  him.  His  plot  foi 
this  purpose  was  a  good  one  —  his  officers  were  true  —  the  jus 
tice  was  his  willing  creature ;  and,  Mr.  Augustus  Mortimer  and 
Major  Marcus  Montmorenci,  were,  he  well  knew,  the  most 
trustworthy  witnesses  that  were  ever  yet  suhorned  to  carry  a 
crooked  character  straight  through  the  sessions.  How  then 
should  he  account  for  the  delay  of  his  agents  in  bringing  their 
prisoner  to  punishment  ? 

"Should  it  he  that  d d  actor,  Jones  —  should  he  have 

spoiled  the  matter  ?  Would  you  had  put  your  knife  and  bullet 
through  his  carcass  as  well  as  through  his  clothes.  I  fear  lie 
will  work  us  evil." 

Such  were  his  muttered  doubts,  at  midnight,  to  his  wily  com 
panion,  who  could  say  little  to  relieve  them. 

"And  this  proud  girl!  She,  too!  — but  it  can  not  be  very 
long.  She  shall  submit,  if  it  be  only  to  save  the  life  of  her 
lover.  I  shall  obtain  my  conquest  over  her,  though,  as  a  con 
dition,  I  am  compelled  to  forego  my  vengeance  upon  him." 

"  But  his  life  is  forfeit  to  the  law  !"  said  Jones. 

"  I  am  the  law  !"  returned  the  other,  haughtily.  Then,  soft 
ening  his  tones,  he  added  —  "but,  I  am  too  feverish,  Jones,  to 
be  just  or  reasonable  now.  Forgive  me  if  I  speak  hastily  or 
harshly.  Go  you  now,  and  see  if  there  be  any  tidings  of  these 
fellows." 

Meanwhile,  Richard  Stillyards,  the  dwarf,  was  already  o:£ 
his  way  to  the  upper  ferry,  as  fast  as  he  could  go ;  and  Vernon 
had  reached  Lucchesa  in  safety.  His  purpose  in  returning  to 
Lucchesa  was  to  declare  himself  in  private  to  William  Mait- 
land  ;  to  reveal  his  whole  connection  with  Carter ;  to  unfold  the 
favorable  terms  which  he  was  commissioned  to  grant,  and, 
finally,  to  crown  the  work  of  peace  and  good-will,  by  offering 
himself  in  marriage  to  Virginia,  whose  own  consent,  it  has  been 
already  seen,  he  was  happy  to  secure  at  an  early  period.  But 
the  misery  of  the  father  at  the  loss  of  his  child,  and  the  deep 
feeling  of  interest  which  he  too  had  in  the  matter  —  \\liich 
seemed  almost  to  deprive  the  former  of  his  reason,  struck  the 
lover  dumb  : — 

"O*e  »tupid  moment  motionless  he 


A    FUGITIVE    ARRESTED.  440 

And  then  his  resolution  returned  to  him  as  he  witnessed  the  old 
man's  despair. 

The  natural  and  nobler  feelings  of  old  Maitland's  heart  re 
covered  all  their  strength  at  this  moment  of  his  greatest  priva 
tion.  Virginia  was  the  apple  of  his  eye  —  the  solace  of  his 
bitter  cup  —  the  very  light  that  relieved  the  otherwise  groping 
darkness  which  had  environed  his  affections.  Bitterly  did  he 
now  accuse  himself  of  neglect,  of  cruelty,  of  crime — of  all 
things,  and  all  thoughts  evil  —  while,  as  the  anguished  words 
poured  from  his  lips,  the  big,  burning  tears  rolled  down  his 
cheeks,  on  which,  the  consciousness  of  evil  thoughts  and  deeds 
had  placed  many  a  premature  line  and  wrinkle.  The  younger 
daughter,  wild  and  frightened  rather  than  grieved,  as  she  be 
held  these  ebullitions  of  a  nature  which  had  never  shown  itself 
to  her  under  such  an  aspect  before,  stood  beside  the  old  man, 
with  one  hand  round  his  neck,  and  one  resting  on  his  head. 
He  himself  sat  upon  the  floor  in  a  state  of  utter  abandonment. 

"  Cheer  up  and  rouse  yourself,  sir,"  exclaimed  Vernon,  as  lie 
looked  upon  the  melancholy  spectacle,  with  a  sentiment  of  pity 
that  became  painful  —  "rouse  up,  sir,  I  will  give  her  back  to 
you  though  I  perish  !" 

"Will  you  —  oh  !  will  you,  Mr.  Vernon  ?  God  bless  you  if 
you  will !  — but  I  fear  —  I  fear  you  can  not !  She's  gone  — I've 
looked  for  her  everywhere !  It  was  I  that  left  her  for  that  ac 
cursed  tavern,  and  those  thrice  accursed  cards.  I  am  not  wor 
thy  of  my  child  —  my  poor  child  !  Oh  !  where  can  she  be  now 
—  in  what  danger  —  from  what  villains!  Oh!  God,  keep  me 
from  that  thought  —  God  in  mercy  keep  her  from  that  danger  !" 

And  the  miserable  father  threw  himself  forward  upon  the 
floor  —  the  blood  gushing  from  his  nostrils,  while  his  hands  tore 
the  scattered  white  hairs  from  his  venerable  head  and  strewed 
them  around  him.  The  screams  of  the  trembling  child  mingled 
with  his  moans,  making  a  discord  which,  while  it  filled  the  ears 
of  Vernon,  did  not  now  so  much  annoy  him.  There  were  some 
evident  fears,  not  so  evidently  expressed  in  the  last  speech  of 
the  father,  which  made  the  blood  recede  from  the  heart  of  Ver 
non,  leaving  a  painful  coldness  and  vacancy  behind  it. 

In  what  danger  was  Virginia  now  ?  What  villain  held  her 
in  his  embraces  —  scorning  her  prayers,  her  tears,  her  trembling 


450  BOEDER   BEAGLES. 

entreaties — her  wild  but  feeble  efforts  at  release?  What  brutal 
violence,  sickening  to  chaste  ears,  assailed  her  gasping  innocence — 
and  none  nigh  to  save  by  equal  violence  from  that  worse  violence 
that  defied  the  imploring  service  of  every  sweet,  and  soothing,  and 
pure  human  affection?  " 

Vernon  felt,  as  these  dreadful  doubts  and  apprehensions  rushed 
through  his  mind,  that  he,  too,  could  throw  himself  in  utter  aban 
donment  upon  the  ground,  and  mingle  his  groans  also  with  those  of 
the  miserable  father.  But  other  feelings,  strengthened  by  the  blood- 
giving  energies  of  youth,  came  to  his  aid.  A  fiercer  power  rose  up 
in  his  heart,  and  with  accents  of  recovered  might,  he  repeated  his 
assurance  to  the  the  old  man,  that  he  would  rescue  and  restore  his 
daughter  at  the  peril  of  his  life.  While  he  made  this  assurance,  the 
pitiable  prostration  of  the  father  struck  him  as  not  less  discreditable 
to  manhood,  than  it  wras  grateful  to  his  paternal  love. 

Maitland  was  still  a  vigorous  man — not  too  old  for  exertion 
—not  too  feeble  at  such  a  time,  to  seek  for  his  child,  and  strike 
a  desperate  blow  in  her  behalf.  Besides,  men  were  wanting  now  to 
prosecute  the  enterprise  against  the  robbers  in  the  Chitta-Loosa, 
with  whom  Vernon  could  not  fail  to  connect  the  outlaw  by  whom 
Virginia  had  been  torn  away  from  her  dwelling.  Circumstances 
had  sufficiently  shown  the  father  that  her  absence  arose  from  an 
abduction,  which  the  whole  tenor  of  Virginia's  life  and  virtuous 
deportment  conclusively  convinced  all  parties,  must  have  been 
forcible. 

A  sudden  resolution  filled  the  mind  of  Vernon.  He  saw  that 
no  better  mode  remained  of  arousing  the  father  to  his  duty,  than  by 
awakening  other  fears  in  his  bosom.  This  was,  indeed,  the 
fitting  moment  to  declare  to  him  the  full  extent  and  powers  of 
his  own  commission.  To  ordinary  minds  it  might  have  seemed 
cruel,  while  the  father  so  keenly  suffered,  to  vex  his  spirit  with 
Ihe  terrors  of  discovery  and  punishment;  but  the  more  correct 
philosophy  of  Vernon  convinced  him  that  the  prostration  and 
infirmity  of  Maitland  could  receive  provocation  and  stimulous  from 
no  other  source. 

"Mr.  Wilson,"  said  he,  "rise—send  your  daughter  to  her 
chamber  for  awhile,  while  I  unfold  to  you  some  business  of 
great  importance.  I  am  the  bearer  of  other  evil  tidings  which 


A    FUGITIVE    ARRESTED.  451 

you  have  not  heard,  but  which  sooner  or  later,  must  reach  your  ears. 
There  can  be  no  better  season  than  the  present." 

The  solemnity  of  these  preliminaries  had  the  effect  of  command 
ing  the  attention  of  the  criminal.  The  daughter  was  sent  from 
their  presence,  and  the  father  rose  slowly  to  his  chair,  with  eyes  full 
of  a  most  painful  anxiety.  Vernon  did  not  delay  his  communication 
with  any  idle  formulae— humanity  forbade  all  such.  It  will  be 
understood,  however,  that  he  omitted  nothing  which  might  soften 
the  natural  severity  of  truth,  and  maintain  for  himself  the 
proper  deportment  of  a  gentleman,  and  one,  too,  so  closely  al 
lied  by  the  tenderest  promises  to  the  daughter  of  the  person  he 
addressed. 

"You  are  known  ,to  me,  sir — you  are  William  Maitland,  late 
cashier  of  the bank." 

The  miserable  old  man  shrieked  in  insuppressible  terror  at  the 
words,  while  his  hands  clasped  and  covered  his  face,  His  daughter's 
fate  was  in  an  instant  forgotten  in  his  own.  The  selfishness  of  his 
nature  preponderated  in  an  instant. 

"Spare  me,  spare  me,  Mr.  Vernon! — for  God's  sake — for  my 
children's  sake — spare  me!-  I  am  a  miserable  old  man — spare  my 
grey  hairs;  and  I  will  bless  you  forever — they  will  bless  you!  Spare 
me!" 

Vernon  took  his  hand  kindly. 

"Be  not'  alarmed,  Mr.  Maitland — though  I  come  commissioned  to 
recover  this  money  from  you,  I  yet  come  as  your  friend,  and  from 
one  who  has  ever  been  your  friend." 

"\Yho?  who?"  exclaimed  the  wretched  man,  with  as  much 
eagerness  of  hope  in  his  face  as  it  had  lately  expressed  of  fear.  But 
when  the  lips  of  Vernon  uttered  the  name  of  "  Carter,"  his  counte 
nance  fell— he  sunk  back  in  his  chair  with  a  deep  groan,  and  again 
covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

"Do  not  doubt  the  friendship  which  has  ever  served  you,  even 
when  the  noble  person  whom  I  have  mentioned  has  been  suffer 
ing  most  from  your  injustice.  I  know  your  story,  and  I  know 
his.  I  know  how  much  you  owe  to  his  friendship,  and  I  know 
how  ill  you  have  repaid  it.  But  I  am  not  sent  to  reproach  you, 
and  well  I  know,  were  lie  himself  present,  his  own  reproaches 
would  be  spared  at  such  a  moment  as  this.  My  mission  brings 
you  safety,  Mr.  Maitland,  though  I  come  as  the  messenger  of 


452  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

justice.  Hear  me  with  patience,  then,  while  I  communicate  to 
you  the  benevolent  designs  of  my  friend— your  friend,  still,  Mr. 
Maitland— in  behalf  of  yourself  and  children." 

This  communication  was  soon  delivered.  The  reader  is  already 
familiar  with  its  purport.  We  need  not  repeat  it  here.  As  little 
necessary  would  it  seem  to  say,  that  it  was  listened  to  by  the  unde 
serving  criminal  with  some  such  feelings  as  those  of  the  culprit 
under  judicial  sentence,  suddenly  relieved  by  an  unlooked-for 
respite  from  the  supreme  authority  while  standing  on  the  very  prec 
ipice  of  death . 

Vernon  did  not  stop  here,  though  the  frequent  groans  and  ejacula 
tions  of  Maitland,  now  of  remorse  and  self-reproach,  and  now  of 
gratitude  and  exultation,  subjected  him  to  frequent  interruptions. 
He  at  once  unveiled  to  the  old  man  the  relation  in  which  he  stood 
to  his  lovely  but  lost  daughter. 

Alas!  for  the  long-diseased  heart,  and  the  pampered  and  pre 
vailing  sin  which  possessed  it!  Even  in  that  hour  of  his  greatest 
privations,  and  pain,  and  humiliation — that  hour  of  his  partial 
relief  from  the  fear  of  punishment— an  hour  distinguished  alike  by 
the  keen  sorrows  of  the  father  at  the  loss  of  the  beloved  child,  and 
the  abased  feelings  of  the  felon  who  suddenly  finds  himself  con 
victed  before  man,  without  escape,  and  with  his  mouth  choked  with 
the  bitter  dust  of  his  own  degradations — in  that  very  hour,  the  shape 
of  his  old  sin  once  more  stood  up  triumphant  and  audacious  as 


ever. 


The  latter  part  of  Vernon's  communication,  which  declared 
the  nature  of  the  tie  which  now  united  his  feelings  and  interests 
with  those  of  Virginia  Maitland,  suggested  to  the  miserable  old 
man  a  new  resource  for  his  crime;  and  he  eagerly  insinuated 
proposals  to  Vernon  that,  instead  of  restoring  the  vast  amount 
of  moneys  which  he  had  purloined,  and  which  he  admitted 
himself  still  to  have,  in  great  part,  in  his  own  possession,  to  the 
rightful  owners,  they  should  retain  it  among  themselves,  and 
by  a  timely  and  fair  retreat,  secure  themselves  and  it  from  the 
grasp  of  all  pursuers.  The  infatuated  gambler,  whose  moral 
sense,  by  a  tendency  as  certain  as  death,  had  gone  down,  step 
by  step,  with  rapid  but  self-unnoted  transitions,  to  the  lowest 
sink  of  depravation,  vainly  imagined  that,  to  a  lover,  and  one 
so  young,  the  charms  of  a  mistress,  and  the  splendid  bribe 


4    FUGITIVE    ARriKSTi  p. 

which  formed  her  dowry,  must  prove  irresistible  temptatiri.s 
Vernon  shrank  back  with  an  apparent  shudder  from  the  grasp 
which  the  eager  fingers  of  Maitland  had  taken  upon  his  arm; 
while  his  eye  regarded  the  stolid  criminal  with  an  expression 
quite  as  full  of  sorrow  as  of  scorn. 

"  Mr.  Maitland,  for  your  daughter's  sake,  I  implore  you  to 
suffer  ne  to  respect  her  father  if  I  can.  Let  me  hear  no  more 
on  this  subject.  I  will  strive,  for  my  own  sake,  to  forget  this 
most  humiliating  offer  —  an  offer  no  less  insulting  to  me  than  it 
is  degrading  to  yourself.  You  have  heard  me  state  what  were 
Mr.  Carter's  propositions.  You  perceive  that  he  is  willing  to 
provide  —  that  he  pledges  himself  to  provide  amply  —  for  your 
children,  on  the  restoration  of  the  sums  in  your  possession.  Cir 
cumstances  have  favored  you,  and  have  spared  me  the  necessity 
of  proceeding  harshly.  I  count  myself  as  singularly  fortunate 
as  yourself  in  being  the  messenger  of  such  benevolent  intentions 
on  the  part  of  one  upon  whom  you  have  no  claims  of  kindness 
Carter,  indeed,  is  a  ruined  man.  Having  carried  out  his  designs, 
and  secured  your  children  in  the  sums  specified,  he  will  have 
no  more  left  him  than  will  barely  suffice  to  make  his  friend 
Gamage  secure  against  all  losses.  Let  me  know  at  once  what 
is  your  resolution  ;  for  we  have  little  time  to  lose.  The  safety 
of  one  who  is  now  no  less  dear  to  me  than  to  you,  requires  our 
instant  pursuit." 

Doubly  humbled,  though,  perhaps,  not  yet  contrite,  Maitland 
acceded  to  all  the  requisitions  of  the  youth,  and,  with  a  hurried 
consent,  he  would  have  dismissed  the  subject,  while  he  pro 
ceeded  to  bustle  forward  to  command  the  horses.  But  Vernon 
was  one  of  those  men  who  do  their  work  thoroughly. 

"Mr.  Maitland,"  said  he,  "this  matter  must  be  settled  to- 
•nght,  and  the  money  delivered.  I  have  my  credentials  ready, 
and  will  prepare  your  guarantee,  while  you  are  getting  thingn 
in  readiness.  If  you  are  resolved  to  go  with  me  in  pursuit  of 
Virginia,  it  will  be  your  better  course  to  order  your  barouche, 
And  take  Julia  with  us.  The  night  is  pleasant,  and  she  can  be 
wrapped  up  carefully.  It  will  be  better  than  to  leave  her  here, 
<n  the  care  of  servants  only,  and  in  a  place  which  has  already 
proved  itself  to  be  so  very  insecure.  You  can  have  no  reason 
to  dread  returning  now,  and  at  Mr.  Badger's  she  will  be  in  per- 


454  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

jfVct  safety,  while  we  traverse  tlio  swjjmp  in  search  of  her  sister 
I  know  no  better  course  either  for  safety  or  propriety." 

Briefly,  Yernon  had  his  own  way  in  all  respects,  His  firm 
ness,  mingled  with  that  becoming  deference  of  manner  which 
youth  always  owes  to  age,  even  when  it  is  criminal  and  debased, 
cowed  the  spirit,  and  commanded  the  respect  of  Maitland.  The 
money  was  restored,  arid  in  one  hour  more  the  cottage  was 
deserted  The  poor  Julia,  trembling  and  wondering,  confused 
at  all  tilings,  and  almost  totally  in  apprehensive  of  any,  was 
wrapped  away  in  the  barouche,  with  her  father  beside  her,  sad, 
ashamed,  and  silent ;  while  Vernon,  mounted  on  horseback,  and 
once  more  armed,  after  a  long  interval,  with  the  weapons  of 
which  the  sturdy  Alabamian  had  taken  such  excellent  charge 
during  his  arrest  and  sickness  —  with  spirits  unconsciously 
heightened  by  the  sense  of  liberty  and  strength  —  rode  along 
side,  and  strove  to  cheer  the  miserable  father,  and  the  innocent 
and  unconscious  child.  Though  his  anxieties  and  apprehensions 
were  in  no  respects  lessened  in  regard  to  the  lost  Virginia,  yet 
the  conviction  that  he  was  now  able  to  strike  in  her  behalf, 
made  him  sanguine  with  hope,  and  rendered  him  elastic  in 
movement.  He  suffered  no  unnecessary  delays  to  restrain  his 
progress,  aftd  by  his  voice  and  example,  he  urged  the  driver 
of  the  vehicle  to  a  corresponding  action  with  his  own  sinewy 
steed. 

The  reader,  if  he  be  not  more  dull — 

"  than  the  fat  weed 
That  hugs  itself  at  ease  at  Lethe's  wharf," 

will  be  pleased  to  spare  us  some  unnecessary  narration,  and  rea 
ily  imagine  a  few  things  in  our  story  which  are  quite  as  eas 
to  conceive  as  to  write.  He  will  take  it  for  granted  that  tin, 
progress  of  our  night  travellers  was  uninterrupted  —  and  that  n 
union  was  safely  effected  the  next  morning,  at  a  tolerably  early 
hour,  between  themselves  and  their  friends  Jamison  and  Horsey. 
He  will  further  learn  that,  shortly  after  the  meeting  of  thr-M- 
with  Vernon,  they  were  joined  by  Walter  Rawlins  and  Master 
Edward  Mabry.  The  eyes  of  the  latter,  which  the  adroit  list;- 
of  Horsey  had  sealed  up  for  a  season,  were  now  in  tolerably 
good  condition  —  they  wore  less  of  the  plethoric  form  and  rai». 


GRAND    BEAGLE    HUNT    IX    I'll!-:!   \UAilON.  4 

bow  aspect,  tli an  they  did  a  week  past;  Imt,  tliringli  rostored, 
they  did  not  seem  to  regard  the  actor  with  any  more  favor  than 
before.  Some  mutual  efforts  were  made  by  Rawlins  and  Ver- 
nou  to  bring  the  parties  to  frievfdly  offices ;  but  they  were  partly 
ineffectual.  Still,  there  was  no  open  show  of  hostility  between 
Aiem.  Horsey,  certainly,  preserved  none.  He  was  a  generous 
fellow  at  heart ;  and  would  have  scorned  to  have  fostered  any 
feeling  of  malice  at  an  enemy.  Besides,  he  had  been  success 
ful,  and  as  those  always  laugh  who  win,  his  good  humor  was  in 
nowise  diminished,  because  the  hand  which  he  offered  with  frank 
ness  to  his  foe  was  taken  with  reluctance.  He  disarmed  the 
active  rancor  of  Mabry,  by  making  some  concessions  —  with 
out  which  it  might  have  been  that  the  operations  of  the  party 
would  have  been  exposed  to  conflicting  feelings  and  divided 
counsels  —  which  he  was 'neither  bound  by  courtesy,  nor  ex 
pected  by  his  opponent  to  make. 

As  for  Rawlins,  his  delight  at  seeing  Vernon  was  excruciating. 
He  hugged  him  to  his  breast  with  what  seemed  to  the  lattb. 
quite  a  superfluous  degree  of  affection,  and  in  the  same  breath, 
though  in  a  whisper,  told  him  that  Rachel  had  at  length  yielded 
to  his  persuasions,  and  had  consented  to  name  the  day. 

Another  matter  of  far  more  gratifying  import  to  Vernon  &t 
this  moment,  was  the  information  which  he  received  of  a  new 
ally  in  the  person  of  Stillyards,  the  dwarf.  That  elegant 
young  person,  elated  with  the  boon  with  which  Florence  Mar- 
bois  had  consented  to  reward  his  industry  in  promoting  her 
purposes  or"  vengearie,  lad  made  his  appearance  at  the  door 
of  Rawlins,  a  little  after  daylight  that  very  morning;  and  his 
communications  had  quickened  the  preparations  of  the  latter  for 
the  pursuit  of  that  enterprise  to  which  the  counsels  of  Vernon 
had  before  impelled  him. 

He  had  not  been  idle,  it  may  be  said  here,  during  the  interval 
which  had  passed.  He  had  secured  the  co-operation  of  nearly 
twenty  men  —  all  stout  fellows? — good  men  and  true  —  whom 
the  blast  of  a  horn  would  bring  together  in  half  an  hour,  from 
a  circuit  of  five  miles. 

The  revelations  of  Stillyards   had    much  more  effect  upon 
Vernon  than  they  could  possibly  have  had  upon  Rawlins.     The 
of  Virginia  Maitland  was  now  known  with  certainty : 


456  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

and  it  was  with  r.o  less  certainty  that  l;c  know  \\lierc  she  wa* 
hidden  by  Saxon.  It  was  no  small  addition  to  his  desire  for 
immediate  enterprise,  when  he  found  that  her  abductor,  and 
the  consummate  chief  of  the  Beagles  of  the  Border,  were  one 
end  the  same  person.  These  discoveries  he  kept  from  the 
father.  He  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  William  Maitland 
could  be  of  little  service  in  the  adventure  —  and  he  counselled 
him  to  proceed  at  once  with  Julia  to  the  security  of  Zion's 
Hill.  He  particularly  cautioned  him  against  suffering  his  own 
near  neighborhood  to  be  known  to  the  venerable  and  dogmatical 
head  of  the  establishment;  still  less  to  suffer  it  to  be  suspected 
that  any  enterprise  was  on  foot,  by  which  to  rout  the  outlaws. 
To  render  the  old  man  more  cautious  in  this  and  every  other 
respect,  the  doubtful  character  of  young  Badger  was  revealed 
to  him,  and  the  danger  fully  shown  of  any  premature  develop 
ment  of  a  project  which  could  only  be  successful  through  per 
fect  secrecy.  Having  sent  the  unhappy  and  criminal  father 
upon  his  way,  Vernon  proceeded  to  the  examination  of  ^5ti]l- 
jrards,  whom  Rawlins  hsd  kept  under  close  watch  in  tiis  neigh 
boring 


CAMPAIGN   BEGINS. 


CHAPTER   XLI. 

CAMPAIGN     BEGINS  —  THK     PIOUS     ELDER THE     PICAROCK 

—  THE    PEERLESS    MAIDEN. 

44  She  scorn'd  us  strangely, 
All  we  could  do,  or  durst  do;  threatened  us 
With  such  a  noble  anger,  and  so  governed 
With  such  a  fiery  spirit."  —  BONDUCA. 

Tuot'UH  naturally  impatient  to  commence  the  war  against  his 
enemies  and  rescue  the  fair  Virginia  from  her  abductors,  Vcrnou 
was  too  thoughtful  and  deliberate  of  character  to  defeat  his 
own  objects  by  any  premature  or  precipitate  attempts.  He 
retired  as  soon  as  possible  into  the  cover  of  the  forests,  and 
from  sight  of  any  but  his  own  comrades,  after  sending  Maitland 
on  his  way  to  Zion's  Hill.  Here  he  closely  examined  the 
dwarf  Stillyards;  and  this  done,  he  despatched  Jamison  with 
two  others  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  in,  and  more  effectually 
securing  the  persons  of  the  two  rogues,  whom  we  left  fas^iud 
in  the  swamp  the  night  before.  There  were  two  other  rogues 
to  be  secured,  of  whose  neighborhood  he  was  now  first  informed 
by  the  dwarf. 

These  were  fellows,  who,  in  the  "  Beagle"  dialect,  went 
by  the  significant  name  of  "  smellers.''  They  were,  in  fact, 
advanced  sentinels,  the  keepers  of  outposts,  watching  the  high 
ways  leadii.g  to  the  swamp  fastnesses,  and  conveying  the  ear 
liest  tidings  of  the  approach  of  any  uncongenial  or  hostile 
influences.  To  divert  these  watchers  from  their  posts,  Still 
yprds,  whom  they  knew,  was  immediately  sent  forward,  as  if 
with  instructions  from  their  captain.  Being  in  possession  of  all 
the  first  signs  of  the  band,  there  could  be  little  or  no  difficulty 
in  deceiving  them  by  means  of  his  agency ;  and  not  altogethei 
prepared  to  rely  wholly  upon  a  rogue,  even  in  the  hour  of  InV 

20 


H  ,;^i;^EB    BtiAttLZS. 

Hrs!  c .inversion,  Yenion  MM.I  Ua\\  liiis,  M-eietly,  with  two  <;ti;rrt 
—  nil  excellent  woodmen —  to  follow  the  dwarf,  and  mrrecT  hi> 
treachery,  should  he  happen  to  prove  faithless  to  his  trust. 

But  his  precautions,  though  proper,  proved  unnecessary 
Stillyards  was  now  the  sworn  enemy  of  the  outlaw  chief  on  his 
own  account,  even  if  he  were  not  bound  as  the  agent  of  Flor 
ence  Marbois.  The  humiliating  indignity  to  which  his  ears  hart 
been  subjected  by  the  fingei  s  of  Saxon  had  turned  all  tbe«aoc»l 
"nlk  of  his  nature  into  gall  and  bitterness;  and  he  was  nov 
prepared,  without  fee  or  reward,  to  prove  to  his  superior  the 
extent  of  that  malignity,  which,  in  the  base  spirit,  never  for 
gives  a  wrong,  and  in  the  weakly,  vain  heart  never  forgets  a 
slight.  The  wish  to  prove  his  capacitv  for  vengeance,  to  him 
who  was  to  be  the  object  of  it,  had  kept  the  deformed  abso 
lutely  sleepless  ;  and  it  was  with  the  keenest  and  most  sus 
picious  impatience  that  he  heard  the  resolution  of  Vernon  to 
make  no  movement,  until  night,  against  the  outlaws  of  Cane 
Castle. 

This  resolution  was  productive  of  surprise  to  other  minds 
rhan  his.  Rawlins  himself  wondered,  that,  with  a  body  of 
stout,  fearless  men,  which,  at  mid-day,  exceeded  in  numbers 
the  entire  force  of  the  beagles  known  to  be  then  within  their 
",y.inp,  he  should  forbear  instantly  proceeding  toward  their  prev. 
i-ui  the  determination  of  the  leader  was  a  judicious  one;  and 
w'hca  explained  to  the  few  comrades  whom  he  trusted  with  his 
;.  Ir.ii,  its  evident  policy  overcame  all  their  scruples  and  disarmed 
the)-,  doubts. 

It  wac  not  till  the  evening  shadows  had  fallen  that  their 
n>  .vo:/isnfct5  were  begun.  Before  this  time,  however,  the  party 
tvhic.L  had  been  despatched  for  the  two  prisoners  had  returned 
v-jth  their  charge;  while,  with  equal  success,  the  dwarf  Still 
yards,  had  beguiled  the  "  Smellers"  from  their  station  into  th< 
very  bai\ds  of  tho  attacking  party.  Before  they  knew  wher > 
'hey  were,  they  encountered  a  dozen  armed  men  in  front,  whii' 
vlie  three  who  had  been  despatched  to  follow  Stillyards,  season 
ttbly  arriving  behind,  cut  off  all  chance  of  retreat. 

the  four  were  despatched  under  an  equal  party  towrtrd  Zion  :' 
Rill,  in  time  to  reach  it  a  few  hours  after  dark.  The}'  conveyed 
i  request  from  Vernon  to  the  venerable  elder  of  that  establish 


CAMPAIGN    BEGINS.  459 

ment,  that  they  might  he  suffered  to  reisi.-siii  under  guard  at  his 
retreat,  until  the  return  of  the  party  next  day.  Having  several 
miles  the  start  of  the  methodist,  it  was  no  longer  a  cause  or" 
fear  that  their  plans  might  be  defeated  either  by  the  perverse 
self-esteem  and  dogmatism  of  the  father,  or  the  treachery  of  tha 
son  ;  of  whom,  by  the  way,  Rawlins  had  meanwhile  gatborea 
such  knowledge  from  Rachel  Morrison,  as  confirmed  all  his  pr-»- 
vious  suspicions. 

These  minor  matters  attended  to,  Vernon  set  his  party  in 
motion  as  soon  as  the  darkness  was  sufficient  to  conceal  their 
movements,  But  instead  of  taking  his  way  down,  he  advanced 
up  the  river,  and  in  a  course  directly  opposite  to  that  where 
Cane  Castle  lay.  Two  miles  above  the  place  where  he  bad 
been  concealed  through  the  day,  was  the  ferry  which  he  had 
that  morning  crossed,  and,  while  crossing,  had  scanned  curious 
ly,  yet  in  silence,  the  place  where  the  boat  was  fastened,  and 
as  much  of  the  scene  and  circumstances  around  him  as  he 
deemed  effectual  to  his  purposes. 

Having  reached  the  neighborhood,  he  ordered  his  party  to 
halt  in  the  woods,  while,  alighting  from  their  horses,  Rawlins, 
Jamison,  and  himself,  went  forward  to  reconnoitre.  Finding 
the  coast  glear,  they  loosened  the  ferry-boat  from  its  fasts. 
This  boat  a  huge  flat,  suited  to  the  transportation  of  wagons  of 
the  largest  dimensions  across  the  river — soon  received  the 
party  without  their  horses.  These  were  sent  to  await  them, 
under  the  charge  of  a  couple  of  the  troop,  to  a  spot  on  the  same 
side  of  the  river  seven  miles  below,  which  was  described  to  be 
directly  opposite  to  that  where  the  outlaws  held  their  abode. 
Under  the  guidance  of  Rawlins,  who  knew  the  river,  and  Still- 
yards,  to  whom  the  upper  shore  was  sufficiently  familiar,  the 
flat  was  suffered  noiselessly  to  fall  down  with  the  current ;  the 
only  toil  of  the  party  being  to  push  her  off  when  she  touched 
the  shore,  and  keep  her  free  from  the  snags  and  sawyers  —  a 
task  not  so  easy  to  execute  in  the  imperfect  starlight,  which 
guided  them  in  their  progress. 

But  they  experienced  fewer  difficulties  than  Vernon  had  an- 
ticipated,  and  arrived  at  the  spot  already  known  to  the  reader 
by  the  fishing  adventure  of  Horsey,  in  perfect  secrecy  and 
silence.  The  flat  was  now  run  up,  and  suffered  to  rest  upon 


BORDER  BEAGLES. 

p'ane  wich 

Oane  Castle ;  and,  through  this  bog,  the  most  toilsome  an']  un- 
oleasant  part,  of  their  journey,  the  little  troop  were  compelled 
to  scramble  —  the  silence  imposed  upon  Horsey,  at  this  juncture, 
being  the  worst  portion  of  the  business  to  that  worthy  amateur. 
The  restraint  he  found  excessively  irksome,  at  a  moment  and 
in  a  place,  which  reminded  him  of  some  of  his  strangest  experi 
ence,  and  of  events  which  had  been  sufficiently  exciting  to  him 
self  to  make  him  sure  of  the  dramatic  effect  which  they  must 
produce  in  the  minds  and  estimation  of  all  others.  It  did  not 
alter  the  case  very  materially  that  he  had  discoursed  over  his 
experience  to  several  of  his  present  comrades  more  than  once 
already.  All  day  he  had  exercised  his  tongue  in  the  reminis 
cences,  always  pleasant  when  past,  of  peril  and  annoyance  : 
still,  some  had  not  heard  —  and  then,  the  minutiae! 

"  It  is  in  the  little  touches,  my  dear  fellow,"  he  said  to  Ver- 
non,  in  a  whisper  —  "the  nice  and  seemingly  unimportant  fea 
tures  of  a  subject,  that  the  whole  character  speaks  out.  A  look, 
a  nod,  a  wink,  or  the  slightest  gesture  in  the  proper  place,  makes 
all  the  difference  in  the  world  —  makes  eloquent  the  commonest 
passages  of  the  poet,  which  the  ordinary  reader  would  slur  over 
in  impatience."  * 

"  Be  a  man  now,  not  an  actor,  Horsey.  Everything  in  sea 
son,"  was  the  stern  response  of  Vernon,  in  a  like  whisper.  4<  He 
is  neither  man  nor  actor  who  can  not  keep  his  tongue,  when  the 
part  actually  calls  for  silence." 

"You're  right  in  that,  by  the  ghost  of  Solomon,  Harry  Mi.n- 
mouth  ;"  and,  as  the  actor  contented  himself  with  this  reply,  he 
sunk  back,  murmuring  from  one  of  his  favorites  : — 

"  This  is  no  world 

To  play  with  imimmets,  and  to  tilt  with  lips: 
We  must  have  bloody  noses,  and  cracked  orovns. 
And  pass  them  current,  too: — " 

A  reflection,  we  may  add,  that  only  distressed  him  as  he  Thought 
how  awkward  he  should  Ipok,  appearing  a  second  time  with  a 
bloody  nose  before  Mary  Clayton, otherwise  Mrs.  Horpey. 

He  was  beguiled   from   his  ai  noyances,  however,  by  finding 
hat  the  next  person  at  his  side  >\  .is  Master  Edward  Mabry.  his 


CAMPAIGN  i;;:<;;x>.  161 

late  rival.  This  discovery  led  liim  to  .some  vague  musings 
about  coincidences,  from  which  he  was  only  aroused  by  tire 
summons,  which  sent  him  forward  with  three  others,  for  the 
capture  of  his  quondam  companion,  Jones ;  a.  summons  which 
enlivened  and  gratified  him  greatly,  as  it  seemed  to  imply  some 
retributive  agency  in  Providence,  which  thus  left  open  the  door 
to  an  atonement  for  all  the  indignities  of  Mr.  Aristophanes  Bull, 
and  the  ruin  of  his  Hamlet. 

He  followed  Rawlins,  to  whom  Stillyards  had  given  particu 
lar  directions  for  finding  the  sleeping-place  of  that  sturdy  out 
law,  while  five  others,  equally  well  instructed,  were  commissioned 
for  the  capture  of  the  rest  of  the  gang.  Vernon,  reserving  to 
himself  the  dwarf  Stillyards  only,  took  his  way  with  a  cautious 
step,  but  a  bounding  heart,  toward  the  squatter's  hovel,  where 
he  had  been  told  by  his  companion  that  the  maiden  was  im 
prisoned.  His  command  to  the  rest  of  his  party  was,  that  the 
followers  of  Saxon  should  be  surprised  and  captured  ;  —  a  more 
sudden,  if  not  more  severe  doom  he  purposed  for  the  outlaw 
himseif.  For  him  the  sudden  shot  or  stroke  was  designed,  as 
from  him  was  anticipated  the  most  reckless  and  resolute  resist 
ance. 

Meanwhile,  the  commotion  at  Zion's  Hill,  inspired  by  the 
astounding  intelligence  brought  by  those  who  escorted  the  cap 
tured  outlaws,  was  such  as  might  have  been  expected  from  the 
vexed  self-esteem  of  the  venerable  veteran.  The  attempt  of 
Vernon  and  Rawlins  to  effect  so  important  a  business  without 
his  agency,  was  a  source  of  equal  surprise  and  indignation 
That  Rawlins  should  be  so  presumptuous,  was  monstrous  in  the 
extreme ;  and  what  made  it  seem  more  so,  was  the  fact,  that,  ifj 
all  his  schemes  and  counsels,  submitted  from  time  to  time  to  til's 
latter,  after  the  departure  of  Vernon,  it  seemed  to  the  dictatori 
al  elder,  that  the  woodman  was  uncommonly  obtuse  and  wretch 
edly  deficient  in  honorable  enterprise.  His  son,  Gideon,  on  the 
contrary,  by  the  boldness  of  his  expressions,  and  the  warmth  of 
valor  which  he  displayed  whenever  the  capture  of  the  "Beagles" 
was  the  subject,  had  greatly  commended  himself  to  the  old  man's 
heart.  He  even  began  to  think,  after  making  due  comparisons 
between  the  two  on  this  subject,  that  it  would  be  only  a  legiti 
mate  right  which  he  had,  as  tbe  guardian  of  Rachel  Morrison. 


10-  bORDEH    BEAULKfe. 

and  a  becoming  exercise  of  his  wisdom,  to  urge  his  wishes  upoL 
her  that  she  should  marry  a  youth  of  so  much  more  promise 
and  discard  one  of  whom  so  few  expectations  could  be  formed 
He  had  forborne  any  attempt  hitherto,  to  bias  her  affections ; 
out  to  one  who  assumed  to  himself  so  large  a  portion  of  the 
allotted  sagacity  of  mankind,  it  began  to  seem  perfectly  proper 
and  praiseworthy  to  employ  it  in  his  own  way,  for  the  ure  of 
one,  who  still  toiled  in  a  sort  of  moral  darkness  and  among  the 
shadows  of  ignorance.  His  first  attempts  at  this  sort  of  juris 
diction,  were,  however,  moderate  enough.  He  began  by  re 
proaches  of  Rawlins  for  his  indirection  and  infirmity  of  purpose 
and  a  recommendation,  only  implied,  however,  of  the  worthy 
and  valiant  Gideon. 

"  What  Walter  RaAvlins  can  mean,"  he  remarked  to  RacheL 
one  morning  shortly  after  the  woodman  had  taken  hib  depart 
ure,  "  by  keeping  his  hands  from  the  good  work,  I  do  not  un 
derstand.  Surely  he  lacks  not  heart  —  he  hath  courage  for 
strife.  There  hath  been  no  shrinking,  hitherto,  on  his  part,  ID 
the  hour  of  danger." 

"  He  has  courage,  believe  me,"  was  the  reply  of  Rachel,  with 
the  natural  and  unrestrained  warmth  of  one  who  loves  without 
doubt  or  qualification.  "  There  is  no  man  of  more  courage  on 
the  river." 

"It  would  please  me  to  think  so,  Rachel  —  nay,  I  have 
thought  so,  but  a  short  while  since  ;  yet,  to  say  truth,  I  have 
my  misgivings.  Why  is  he  backward  to  stir  up  the  people 
when  I  bid  him?  Why,  when  the  occasion  is  so  pressing  — 
when  evil  men  gather  with  deadly  weapons  in  their  hands,  and 
deadly  malice  in  their  hearts,  as  I  may  say  it,  around  the  holy 
places  of  the  Lord ;  and  the  innocent  traveller  is  waylaid  for 
his  spoil;  and  they  fear  not  to  smite  the  unoffending,  and  the 
unprepared,  and  the  innocent  —  why  doth  he  keep  himself 
aloof  at  such  a  time  —  how  may  he  justify  himself  for  such 
slackness  of  spirit1?  Were  he  feeble  of  limb,  and  slight  of  per 
son,  it  were,  perhaps,  to  be  forgiven  him  that  he  is  backward  ; 
but  he  hath  strength  beyond  that  of  ordinal  y  men,  and  with  a 
fitting  strength  of  heart,  there  would  seem  to  be  no  justification 
for  this  hike warmn ess.  Truly,  Rachel,  it  htimbleth  m 
—  this  falling  off  in  our  friend  " 


CAMPAIGN    iii'A..lNS.  4(53 

There  is  no  falling  off,  dear  uncle,  believe  me.      I  will  an- 
for  Walter,  that,  when  the  fitting  time  shall  arrive,  he  will 
be  :.5ady,  and  among  the  first." 

•'When  the  fitting  time  shall  ariive !"  was  the  exclamation 
»f  the  elder.  "  Have  I  not  said  to  thee  and  to  him,  already, 
that  now  is  the  time  and  the  season  ?  Now  !  now  !  Can  there 
be  a  better  hour  than  the  first  for  the  good  performances  of  a 
man,  and  those  which  are  so  needful  for  human  safety?  He 
hath  heard  my  thought  more  than  once  already,  in  behalf  of 
this  necessity." 

"But,  if  he  thinks  otherwise,"  was  the  imprudent  reply  of 
the  maiden  —  her  anxiety  for  the  justification  of  her  lover,  ma 
king  her  forgetful  of  the  mortal  stab  which  such  a  suggestion 
must  give  to  the  old  gentleman's  conceit  of  heart.  His  hands 
and  eyes  were  uplifted  in  unmitigated  astonishment. 

"Ha!  it  is  so,  then,  even  as  I  expected.  He  hath  better 
assurances  of  wisdom  and  the  truth  than  older  men  —  nay,  than 
all  men  around  !  for  al1  men  seem  to  hold  it  needful  that  the 
outlaw  should  be  arrested,  out  of  hand,  in  his  deeds  of  evil.  He 
thinks  otherwise,  doth  ho?  He  will  tell  us  when  it  is  the  fit 
ting  season,  will  he?  He  is  p-)od  and  wise,  but  it  is  unfortu 
nate  that  we  must  do  without  him.  We  must  contciK  ourselves 
with  the  strength  we  have,  aud  only  pray  to  the  Lori  that  r 
-nay  be  equal  to  the  work  before  us  —  that  we  may  go  forward 
without  faintness  of  heart  or  slackness  of  spirit,  and  that  success 
may  be  vouchsafed  to  us,  not  because  of  the  strength  which  we 
have,  but  the  will  for  the  performance  !" 

"Oh,  my  uncle,  speak  not  thus  harshly  —  think  not  thus  un 
kindiy  of  Walter  ;"  responded  the  maiden,  now  fully  awake  toe 
her  indiscretion  as  she  listened  to  this  outpouring  of  tne  morbid 
vanity  of  age.  "You  do  Walter  injustice;  I'm  sure  you  do  ; 
and  he'll  be  ready  to  go  with  the  rest,  as  soon  as  ever  they're 
ready.  He  may  think  it  too  soon,  but  I'm  sure,  when  you  once 
set  the  example,  and  name  the  day,  he'll  be  among  the  first  to 
turn  out  at  your  summons." 

A  reply  no  less  bitter  than  the  former  answered  this  addi 
tional  speech  of  Rachel ;  and  was  followed  up  by  a  sneering 
comment  of  Master  Gideon  Badger,  who  made  his  appearance 
while  the  controversy  was  in  progress.  He  muttered  borne 


464  BORDP:R  BEAGLKS. 

general  remark  about  the  not  (infrequent  hiejcTpetency  of  the 
soul  to  the  frame  which  enclosed  it;  and  concluded  with  asc'.i 
ring  his  father  that  mere  bulk  or  even  numbers  were  not  so 
necessary  as  spirit  and  resolution  for  the  adventure  which  *bey 
had  in  view. 

"And  the  sanction  of  God,  my  son,"  said  the  now  approvi;,- 
father. 

The  eye  of  Rachel  Morrison  turned  upon  the  hypoorip!-* 
Gideon,  with  an  expression  of  fiery  scorn  which  he  shrunk  u 
encounter.     Her  heart   swelled   within    her   with   a  feeling  of 
indignant  resistance  as  she  replied,  addressing  herself  only  to 
the  son : — 

"  1  can  answer  equally  for  the  spirit  and  frame  of  \Valtei 
Rawlins,  Gideon  Badger,  and  will  warn  you  in  season  how  yoc 
provoke  either." 

"Rachel  Morrison!"  exclaimed  the  old  man  sternly  —  "  would 
you  threaten  Gideon  with  the  violence  of  a  stranger?" 

"A  stranger,  uncle  —  Walter  Rawlins  a  stranger!  —  Has  it 
then  come  to  this?  —  But  if  he  is  a  stranger  to  you,  sir,  as,  in 
deed,  he  seems  to  be,  from  the  manner  in  which  you  speak  and 
think  of  him,  he  is  yet  no  stranger  to  me.  I  can  answer 
equally  for  his  strength  and  courage.  As  for  threatening 
Gideon  with  them,  I  had  no  such  thought  —  but  I  though*,  it 
prudent  to  warn  him  against  offending  either.  Walter  is  patient 
enough,  but  he  is  young,  and  he  is  human ;  and  when  human 
passions  are  treated  with  scorn,  they  are  very  apt  to  rise  in 
resentment.  I  respect  the  courage  of  Walter  sufficiently  to 
make  me  think  it  would  not  be  safe  for  Gideon  to  do  u>i  it  m 
nis  hearing." 

"  In  a  good  cause,  and  with  God's  blessing,"  said  th?  de; GUI 
young  man,  "  I  have  little  fear  of  him  or  of  any  other  person." 

"  And  with  such  principles,  Gideon,  my  son,  you  need  have 
no  fear.  The  gates  of  hell  shall  not  prevail  against  him  v/ho 
goes  forth  armed  by  God's  favor,  and  in  the  prosecution  of  the 
just  war  of  truth.  It  is  even  such  a  war  as  this,  which  Walter 
Rawlins  thinks  it  not  yet  a  seasonable  time  to  begin ;  but,  as 
you  have  already  said,  we  need  not  numbers  in  a  righteous 
cause.  God  will  provide  —  God  will  strengthen  —  God  will  see 
that  numbers  even  shall  not  be  wanting,  in  the  hour  when  tht» 


THE  PIOUS  ELDER  —  THE  PICAROON  SOX.      405 

Danner  is  to  be  raised  and  the  blows  are  to  be  struck  ;  and  if  I 
have  a  sorrow  because  of  the  absence  of  Walter  Rawlins  from 
this  conflict,  it  is  because  of  his  own  great  loss  therefrom." 

"  lie  will  not  be  absent!"  exclaimed  Rachel  Morrison —  i 
know  he  will  go  in  search  of  these  robbers,  when  the  tima 
comes,  so  far  ahead  of  some  others,  that  even  their  eyes  wiJ 
not  dare  to  follow  him." 

This  sarcasm  was  felt  by  Gideon,  but  passed  the  old  man 
without  attracting  his  notice ;  an  escape  which  no  doubt  saved 
the  damsel  a  lecture  on  presumption  of  heart,  and  pride  of 
opinion,  and  some  dozen  more  of  the  vital  sins  of  ignorance  and 
youth. 

The  arrival  of  the  captured  outlaws,  and  the  message  from 
Rawlins  —  events  which  took  place  only  two  days  after  this 
dialogue  —  while  they  completely  justified  the  warm  confidence 
of  the  maiden  in  the  manhood  of  her  lover,  as  completely  con 
founded  the  stern  old  methodist,  and  baffled  all  his  estimates  of 
character.  Not  that  he  thought  any  better  of  Walter  Rawlins 
than  before.  If  forced  to  believe  him  brave  and  ready  now,  he 
was  at  least  thoroughly  vexed  with  the  audacity  that  dared  to 
undertake  a  business  so  important  without  his  co-operation. 
Nay  —  Tiot  only  without  his  co-operation,  but  actually,  with  a 
studious  reservation  from  him  of  a  task  in  which, his  own 
threatjQ'id  performances  were  to  be  the  most  conspicuous  of  all 
human  adventures.  His  self-complacency  did  not  permit  him 
to  imagine,  for  a  single  instant,  the  true  reason  why  he  should 
be  kept  from  the  knowledge  of  a  scheme,  the  object  of  which 
he  had  as  sincerely  and  notoriously  at  heart,  as  anybody  else  f 
and  it  would  have  been  very  difficult  to  persuade  him  —  the  fnct 
is  not  eady  of  belief — that  a  dogmatical  old  man  is  of  all  others 
the  greatest  obstacle  to  the  progress  of  any  business,  where 
young  men  are  to  be  the  performers.  That  Badger  would  have 
"ejected  every  plan  but  his  own,  for  the  capture  of  the  robbers, 
and  spoiled  any  that  might  be  undertaken,  the  shrewd  sense  of 
Vernon  perceived  in  the  first  hour  of  their  acquaintance ;  and 
the  doubts  which  were  entertained  of  the  fidelity  of  the  son 
naturally  combined  to  strengthen  his  objections  to  any  partici 
pation  of  the  father  in  the  business.  His  views  of  the  subject 
L&ve  been  already  given  to  the  reader. 

20* 


The  exultation  of  Rachel  Morrison  may  !KI  .niaginc.l. 
these  proofs  of  the  courage  of  her  Walter  were  produced-  a. 
exultation  which  spoke  in  tearful  eyes,  and  a  trembling  an ! 
I  -mding  heart.  Old  Badger,  as  one  of  the  quorum,  and  one 
Karned  in  the  law  —  in  all  laws  —  clothed  in  official  authority, 
ir'id  no  less  delighted  with,  than  conscious  of,  the  power  which 
it  conferred,  was  —  however  angry  with  the  captors — not  un 
willing  to  take  into  custody  the  captive  outlaws.  He  secured 
them  urider  good  locks  and  keys,  having  first  taken  the  preeau 
tion,  with  the  assistance  of  the  detachment  under  whose  guar<l 
they  came,  of  roping  them  to  some  very  heavy  articles  of  fm 
niture.  The  two  soi-disant  constables  were  bound,  with  up 
ward-looking  eyes,  on  the  flats  of  their  backs,  tete-a-tci  ,  to  a 
dresser  of  prolonged  dimensions,  but  not  so  long,  as,  whon  \\><\ 
rogues  were  stretched  upon  it,  to  admit  of  a  support  to  tlic.] 
legs,  which  were,  in  consequence,  suffered  to  dangle  fvcm  !•„ 
only  in  partial  possession  of  their  wonted  liberty.  They  c^iiil 
kick  the  wall  or  each  other,  at  either  end  of  the  board,  b  it  f.o 
these  limited  exercises  they  were  unequivocally  restrained 
If  the  other  two  were  not  equally  well-cared  for,  it  v/an  th'vir 
misfortune  —  they  were  certainly  equally  well-fasten-?.:?.  It 
needs  not  that  we  should  describe  the  particular  privileged  of 
their  situation.  Two  of  the  guard  were  reserved  to  keep  watch 
over  them  until  the  proper  officers  of  the  law  could  be  p^oi  in 
requisition,  while  the  other  two  were  dismissed,  at  tbi:'.~  cwn 
request,  that  they  might  rejoin  the  attacking  party  ths.'  m'^hv. 
and  before  the  descent  was  made  upon  the  camp  of  the  '»ut'*r.vi> 

After  dismissing  them,  which  he  did  in  no  very  cerw-inio'is 
or  friendly  manner,  old  Badger  was  suddenly  seized  •••/it'u  r.a« 
conviction  that  he  should  have  gone  himself.  His  a?n&~r  few. 
was  interested  to  lead  in  an  expedition  for  which  his  oast,  a-, 
quaintance  with  the  wars,  and  his  present  connection  v/ith  '  ' ' '.«.' 
peace,"  seemed  equally  to  constitute  a  peculiar  justification  ! 
his  claim.  Besides,  had  he  not  been  beating  up  recruits  for  r.hin 
very  expedition  ?  Were  not  some  of  them  in  the  neighborhood 
—  could  they  not  be  easily  mustered1?  There  was  Gideon  «»i.J 
himself — Joe  Tompkins,  the  hired  ploughboy , Nicodemun  Uoot, 
the  schoolmaster,  who,  though  a  Yankee,  was  able  to  ride  and 
shoot,  and  had  done  execution  more  than  once  at  pigeon-di*- 


THE    P4UU5J    LLDiAl  — 'i  KK    nCAi.'i;i;:\    •--.--  *"' 

tance.  A  timely  use  of  the  six  or  seven  hours  remaining  be 
tween  that  and  daylight,  would  enable  him  easily  to  muster  up 
dome  half  a  score  ;  and  M'itli  these  the  veteran  was  not  unwilling, 
in  a  fair  day,  and  after  due  preliminaries  of  prayer  and  fasting, 
to  face  all  the  outlaws  between  the  Alabama  and  Arkansas. 
From  the  guard  that  brought  in  the  prisoners,  he  had  been  led 
to  believe  that  the  party  of  Vernon  would  not  commence  the 
march  before  dawn ;  and  as  he  had  no  thought  of  the  use  which 
might.be  made  of  the  ferry-boat  in  such  an  expedition,  he  took 
it  for  granted  that  hard  riding  would  bring  him  to  the  post  of 
danger  in  season  for  all  its  honors.  This  new  course  of  thought 
lod  to  instant  preparations,  which  need  to  be  adverted  to  only. 
They  do  not  affect  our  expedition  at  this  moment. 

But  when  his  plans  had  to  be  carried  out,  the  venerable  elder 
discovered  that  one  of  his  chief  agents  was  reported  missing. 
This  was  his  own  son,  the  worthy  Gideon,  who  was  no  less  con 
founded  than  his  father  at  the  developments  of  the  night.  If 
the  old  man  was  vexed  and  mortified,  Gideon  was  terrified. 
The  danger  was  at  his  very  door.  The  rascals  who  were  taken 
knew  him  as  a  confederate,  and  in  the  very  presence  of  the  old 
man  exhibited  those  secret  signs  of  intelligence  which  made  the 
profligate  youth's  heart  quake  within  him,  though  he  sufficiently 
preserved  his  equilibrium  to  return  them.  The  keen  eyes  of 
Rachel  Morrison  beheld  his  consternation,  and  her  piercing  and 
suspicious  glance  did  not  fail  to  perceive  that  there  was  some 
communion  even  then  going  on  between  the  parties. 

Grideon,  with  every  additional  moment  of  reflection,  fancied 
th.^  danger  to  be  increasing.  He  knew  that  the  outlaws  looked 
to  him  for  assistance;  nay,  looked  to  him  to  liberate  them;  — 
«-ud  also  remembered  some  of  the  painful  conditions  which  were 
•.oupled  with  his  association  with  the  beagles.  He  was  sworn 
;o  convey  the  tiding^  of  danger  to  his  comrades  in  the  swamp. 
Their  arrest  almost  necessarily  led  to  his  own.  The  discovery 
of  their  secrets  involved  his  safety ;  and  what  security  could 
he  have  against  the  revelations  of  frightened  rogues  at  the  foot 
of  the  gallows?  He  was  divided  between  conflicting  fears  and 
desires.  It  was  important  to  rescue  the  outlaws  already  in  cus 
tody —  it  was  equally,  if  not  more  important,  to  counsel  thoe* 
in  (.he  swamp  of  their  approaching  danger. 


168  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

A  few  moments'  reflection  determined  him  to  address  himself 
exclusively  to  the  latter  object.  The  danger  of  the  prisoners 
was  not  immediate.  They  were  yet  to  be  committed  for  trial, 
and  a  considerable  stretch  of  time  lay  between  the  present  and 
the  period  assigned  for  the  county  court  sessions.  If  the  boa 
gles  in  the  swamp  continued  free,  it  would  be  no  very  difficult 
matter  to  rescue  the  prisoners  at  some  more  favorable  moment  . 
and  the  only  evil  would  be  their  temporary  detention  in  con 
finement.  He  was  well  assured  that  such  hardy  rogues  would 
never  make  their  confessions  a  moment  sooner  than  was 
necessary. 

That  the  beagles  in  the  swamp  were  prepared  for  their  ene 
mies  was  very  probable,  and  yet  a  promptness,  spirit,  and  vigi 
lance,  such  as  had  already  been  shown  by  the  assailing  party, 
rendered  important  every  measure  of  precaution,  and  demanded 
the  instant  activity  of  every  member  of  the  fraternity.  Vernon 
and  Rawlins  were  obviously  men  to  be  feared,  and  tli3  reader 
has  already  seen  that  Gideon  Badger  was  one  of  thoae  men  who 
are  soonest  to  "  despair  their  charm."  He  wanted  "  th^  natu 
ral  hue  of  courage,"  and  his  fears  on  the  present  occasion,  sveu 
exaggerated  the  danger,  pressing  as  it  really  was.  To  give  a 
sign  to  the  outlaws  in  custody,  significant  of  his  resolution  to 
serve  them,  and  to  slip  from  the  apartment  unobserved,  evya 
before  his  father  had  yet  dismissed  the  two  men  of  RawimD%9 
party  who  had  brought  in  the  prisoners,  were  the  first  step.;  :-i 
Gideon  after  he  had  concluded  upon  his  course.  The  venera 
ble  rnethodist,  with  eyes  shut  and  hands  uplifted,  was  too  busy 
delivering  a  searching  sermon  to  the  prisoners  and  their  captors 
alike,  to  observe  the  movements  of  the  son.  But  they  vvcrr. 
seen  by  the  keen  eyes  of  the  damsel,  who  already  knew  ei-.o'igh 
of  the  truth  to  comprehend  the  condition  of  Gideon's  mind,  a-.;: 
to  anticipate  his  probable  course.  She  followed  him  siieniJ 
from  the  apartment,  and  traced  his  steps  to  the  foot  of  the  g;x 
den.  She  came  up  with  him  as  he  was  about  to  cross  the  fer  - 
and  called  him  instantly  by  name. 

"Gideon!  —  Gideon  Badger!" 

How  shrunk  his  heart  in  terror  at  the  sound  —  the  sound  ,,i 
his  own  name  uttered  by  the  lips  of  a  woman!  But  at  «i..^ 
moment  he  knew  not  whose  lips  nitcu'd  it,  {siul  it  v/.-i*  ,-,  s 


THE  PICAROON   SON  —  THE   PEERLESS   MAIDEN. 

of  (error.  His  apprehensions  liacl  rendered  his  ccr.sen  i.i.il  ?o 
discriminate,  however  acute  in  the  appreciation  of  all  sights 
and  accents.  The  summons  seemed  full  of  terror,  and  it  was 
not  till  she  approached,  and  he  turned  full  upon  her,  that  he 
felt  relieved. 

"Gideon,"  she  said,  "go  not  if  you  would  he  safe.  1  warn 
yi»u,  stay  where  you  are  —  yon  are  in  danger  if  you  leave 
Zion's  Hill." 

"In  danger,  Rachel!  —  in  danger,  my  pretty  cousin!"  he 
replied,  with  some  show  of  recovered  impudence,  if  not  courage, 
in  his  manner  —  "why,  what  should  be  the  danger  that  I  nuisr 
apprehend,  unless  it  be  that  to  which  I  have  been  so  long  ex 
posed  1  My  danger  is  from  you,  Rachel  —  you  only  !" 

He  would  have  taken  her  hand  as  he  spoke,  with  an  air  <>f 
excessive  familiarity,  but  she  repulsed  him  and  drew  back  at 
his  approach,  with  a  manner,  the  evident  aversion  of  which 
brought  a  burning  flush  upon  his  cheek 

"This  is  no  time,"  she  said  coldly,  "for  these  follies  ;  and 
least  of  all  is  it  a  season  for  you  to  indulge  in  them.  Hear  n:e, 
Gideon;  I  am  in  possession  of  your  secrets  —  I  can  guess 
where,  even  now,  you  would  bend  your  steps.  You  go  to  warn 
the  robbers  in  the  swamp  of  the  danger  that  awaits  them." 

"'  Ha  !"  It  Avas  all  he  spoke,  and  his  teeth  almost  chattered 
in  the  utterance. 

"Yes  —  it  is  known  to  me  —  the  dreadful  tie  that  binds  you 
to  these  miserable  men.  I  have  heard  you  in  speech  with  their 
lender,  :-ind  others  of  the  band.  They  are  in  danger  —  you  can 
r»>t  rhow  them  this,  without  involving  yourself  in  their  danger, 
vul  it  is  beyond  your  power  to  save  them.  Stay  where  you 
••»rc  —  or,  if  you  leave  Zion's  Hill,  let  me  counsel  you  to  take  a 
course  far  different  from  that  .you  intend  to-night.  Fly  to  the 
eastward;  I  will  keep  your  secret,  and  do  my  best  to  get  the 
means  for  you  from  my  uncle." 

"  Rachel,  you  must  really  care  for  me.  This  friendly  rev 
elation —  this  pursuit  of  me  —  this  interest  in  my  fortunes  -- 
this  care  for  my  safety,  sufficiently  prove  it.  Be  mine,  dear 
Rachel,  and  I  will  do  as  you  counsel  —  I  will  fly  from  *.ii.a  •<  T> 
federac.y  —  I  will  go  with  you  where  you  please." 


470  BORDER    BEAGLES 

v>  This  is  only  trifling,  Gideon  — you  should  know  me  better 
I  have  already  told  you  that  I  am  pledged  to  another," 

"But  you  do  not  love  him — you  can  not  —  nay  — can  I  doubt 
your  feeling  of  preference  for  me  after  this  proof?  It  is  mid 
night —  the  darkness  of  the  night  and  forest  are  around  us—- 
yet  you  seek  me  to  counsel  me  against  danger  —  you — " 

"  God  help  you  to  wiser  thoughts,  Gideon.  Is  it  not  enough 
that  you  are  the  only  child  of  that  uncle  who  has  been  a  father 
to  me  ?  Is  this  not  sufficient  reason  why  I  should  seek  to  beo)> 
you  from  danger,  and  him  from  misery?" 

"I  must  believe  there  is  yet  another  and  a  better  rear;.-',  • 
am  sure,  Rachel,  that  we  can  be  happy  together." 

"Never  !  never  !"  she  exclaimed,  with  impetuous  energy,  *.&. 
provoked  by  the  insolent  self-complaisance  of  his  tone  and  man 
ner,  she  wrested  from    him   the  hand  which   he  had   partifJIy 
taken  in  his  grasp.     "  Flatter  yourself  with  no  such  idle  fai, 
Gideon  Badger.     Happiness  with  you  is  impossible.     £o 
shall  the  heavy  sod  lie  upon  my  bosom,  and  I  not  feel  •':,  ihx.:. 
I  yield  myself  up  to  the  hope,  or  to  the  chance  of  finding  \ 
piness  in  any  closer  connection  with  you  than  now  !     Ever.  *i 
I  pain  to  look  upon  you  as  I  must  daily,  and  see  yo:.  E:  1  •,?-.- 
and  know  you  as  you  are  !" 

"  Rachel  Morrison,  you  have  determined  your  own  fe':3  T-.  * 
know  too  much  for  your  safety  and  for  mine.  My 
henceforward  must  be  in  securing  you.  You  have  been  *u 
some  pains  to  pry  into  my  secrets  —  to  follow  me  l.er-j  i.  .  t 
there,  and  become  a  party  to  those  concerns  in  which  yc  i 
required  to  take  no  part.  This  proves  that  you  have  sunder ,* 
interest  in  my  fortunes  to  justify  me  in  forcing  a  portion  of  t^.e-T. 
upon  yo';.  You  are  right:  I  am  about  to  join  the  beagles  :ii 
the  »wamp.  It  is  useless  now  to  deny  to  you  that  I  am  one  of 
them.  You  must  go  with  me.  You  must  be  mine  from  this  in 
stant  !  Your  own  lips  have  sealed  your  doom  !  Your  man, 
Rawiins,  is  not  here  to  save  you  now  !" 

He  advanced  upon  her  as  he  spoke.  She  retreated  a  pace 
*nd  r>poke  with  tones  of  coolness  and  deliberation  —  tones  \vhich 
trembled  only  from  the  aroused  energies  of  her  spirit. 

"You  are  mistaken,  Gideon  Badger.  I  am  prepared  for  this. 
It  is  you  that  have  sealed  your  doom,  or  will  seal  it,  if  you  ad 


THK    WOLF    AT    B,\  V,  •*  «  ' 

vance  another  step  toward  me!      If  tl:c  mini,  Walter  fi.ii\\lhi> 

he  is  a  man,  Gideon  Badger  !  —  if  lie  be  not  here,  to  save  me. 

he  has  left  me  that  with  which  I  shall  save  myself!  One  of 
his  pistols  is  now  in  my  hand  —  loaded  by  him,  and  left  at,  my 
request —  with  a  fearful  conviction  that  it  might  be  necessary 
at  some  such  moment  AS  the  present  !  Your  threats  have  thus 
prepared' me;  I  have  learned  the  use  of  the  weapon  ;  and,  as  ] 
hope  still  to  maintain  the  whiteness  of  my  soul  to  the  last,  I  air, 
resolved  to  use  it  against  yourself,  sooner  than  sufl'er  you  to 
Bully  the  purity  of  mine.  You  know  me  well  enough,  Gideon 
Parser,  to  know  irat  T  will  as  solemnly  execute  the  resolution 
which  I  have  so  solemnly  made !  Now,  approach  me  with  vio 
lence,  if  you  dare  !" 


CHAPTER    XLII. 

r*'V    WOLF    AT    BAY THK    APK    ON    THE    SHOrj.DERS    OF    THE 

T1«ER —  A    COUP-DK-THEATRK,   A    LA    S1DDONS. 

"  Such  a  life, 

Methinks,  had  m<-tal  in  it  to  survive 
An  age  of  men." — GEORGE  CHAPMAN. 

•  THE  solemn  accents,  the  deliberate,  resolved  tone  of  the 
maiden,  not  less  than  the  energetic  language  which  she  used, 
vTould  have  impressed  a  much  bolder  person  than  Gideon  Bad 
ger  with  the  danger  of  trifling  with  such  a  spirit.  It  was  evi 
dent  that  all  was  serious  and  composed  earnestness  in  he/  mind  ; 
«:ini  her  words  derived  no  emphasis,  or  very  little,  from  the  ex 
hibition  of  the  pistol,  and  the  click  of  the  lock  as  it  distinctly 
Bounded  under  her  fingers.  To  the  dastard  soul  of  Gideon  Bad 
ger  it  simck  a  sentiment  of  fear,  which  at  once  disarmed  him 
of  his  insolence  and  arrested  his  approach.  But  a  moment  be 
fore  he  had  persuaded  himself  that  lie  should  be  able  to  carry 
her  in  safety  to  the  swamp.  He  had  no  sort  of  doubt  that  the 
beagles  would  escape  the  pursuit  of  Rnwlins's  party,  even  if 
they  remained  uncounselled  by  himself;  for,  well  apprized  •>* 


j  i  -  liUi'Li.ii     UK,\i>- 

liic  numbe.)  'Cs.1  ra  mi  fit. /t  ions  ;'nd  resunivr.-:  ci'  ihc  fraternity,  ht 
aid  not  fcai  bin  they  would  be  advised  of  the  approach  of  thfi 
enemy  by  at  kast  a  dozen  out-sentries.  How  easy  to  find 
shelter  w\th  them  for  Rachel  Morrison;  and  there,  secure  from 
p'irsuit,  a^d  having  her  entirely  in  his  power  and  at  his  mercy, 
what  should  hinder  the  consummation  of  cviiv*  even  of  his  worst 
purposes  ? 

Such  was  the  precious  scheme  which  his  mind  conceived 
fiom  the  fLst  moment  that  .night  when  Rachel  appeared  upon 
the  scene.  Such  was  the  scheme  which  her  masculine  resolu 
tion  c.jd  her  foresight  so  easily  defcatec.  Gideon  Badger  V,;L- 
not  calculated  to  be  a  magnificent  villain.  Ho  was  a  petty  ra« 
cal  vx/ily.  In  a  city  like  New  York  he  would  have  aif.de  au 
excellent  auction-dealer  —  one  of  those  cunning  gentry  that  sell 
baubles  by  the  lot,  and  bluster  when  you  refuse  to  keep  your 
hasty  purchases.  Still,  base  as  was  his  nature,  lie  felt  liio 
meanness  of  his  present  position  Incapable  of  pressing  li'.v 
villaiiv  to  the  utmost,  he  would  have  ascribed  his  abortive  at 
tempt  to  merriment  only.  With  a  laugh,  which  did  not  nU^ 
get  her  disguise  the  tremulous  tone  of  his  voice,  he  said  : — 

"  Why,  Rachel,  you  seem  to  think  that  I  was  serious1 — at 
least,  you  are  grown  serious  yourself.  And  so  you  actually  go 
armed  ?  That,  of  all  things,  is  the  strangest !  •  Why  should 
you  go  armed  ?  What  would  you  do  with  a  loaded  pistol,  J 
should  like  to  know  ?" 

"  Use  it  for  my  protection,  Gideon,  if  I  found  any  one  '--'•i- 
ously  bent  to  assail  me,"  was  the  cool  reply. 

"But  you  could  not  have  supposed  that  I  would  <lc  eiu-'..  ^ 
thing,  Rachel?" 

"  I  do  !  —  indeed,  I  know  that  you  would,  if  you  dared!  it 
is  well  for  both  of  us,  Gideon,  that  you  are  not  quite  so  valiiU.r 
as  you  are  wicked  !" 

"  You  speak  plainly,  RacheJ,''  was  the  hoarse  repty. 

"It  is  best,"  answered  the  maiden;  "it  is  for  yo'..r  ^n,:.-".~7 
that  I  have  spoken  thus  plainly.  Hear  me,  Gideon.  \vh:l  -  .i 
speak  more  plainly  yet.  To  save  you  from  a  great  perl'!  ; 
have  ventured  into  these  woods  at  this  hcAir  of  the  nigi;:,  i 
spite  of  the  fears  ar-d  scrunl-38  -vhich  are  so  miturC  io  --P.; 
sex — " 


THE    WOLF    AT    BAY.  473 

"And  of  which  your  own  share  soc.ins  umiceountnUy  small," 
^as  the  sneering  interruption  of  her  companion. 

"  That  is  as  you  think,"  was  the  composed  reply.  "  Small 
or  great,  they  were  sufficient  to  have  kept  me  back  from  this 
interview,  but  that. -v I  was  resolved  to  add  one  more  effort  to 
those  I  have  already  made,  to  save  you  from  the  dangers  intc 
whicb  you  are  yet  resolved  to  fall." 

"You  are  very  kind — very' benignant." 

She  did  not  heed  the  impertinence  of  this  speech,  or  its 
equally  impertinent  manner,  as  she  proceeded  : — 

"  Yet,  not  because  I  had  care  or  interest  in  you,  Gideon  Bad 
ger,  did  I  take  these  pains,  or  incur  a  risk,  which  your  own  con 
duct  has  just  assured  me  was  no  small  one — but  for  that  good 
old  man,  your  father,  who  has  been  more  than  a  father  to  me, 
and  whose  gray  hairs  would  go  down  to  the  grave  in  wretched 
ness,  did  any  mishap  or  dishonor  reach  his  son.  I  do  not  seek 
to  cave  you  from  the  danger  so  much  as  I  seek  to  spare  him 
the  sorrow  and  the  shame.  You  have  shown  yourself  too  little 
careful  of  my  feelings,  Gideon,  during  our  long  acquaintance,  to 
deserve  much  at  my  hands,  of  either  respect  or  kindness.  On 
the  contrary,  sin.  3  we  have  reached  maturity,  I  have  known  you 
by  your  persecutions  —  by  your  ungenerous  persecutions  — 
rather  than  by  any  more  commendable  qualities  or  conduct. 
Still,  I  would  save  you  —  from  your  comrades,  from  yourself, 
from  the  laws  which  you  have  outraged,  and  which  you  are  now 
about  to  outrage.  I  have  kept  your  secret  from  your  father, 
from  Rawlins,  from  all  —  I  have  restrained,  though  with  greai 
difficulty,  another  from  declaring  it.  I  now  tell  you,  Gideon, 
solemnly  here  and  seriously,  that  if  you  go  this  night  into  the 
swamp,  you  go  into  unnecessary  danger.  I  have  a  presentiment, 
Gideon,  that  you  go  never  to  return." 

He  would  have  ridiculed  her  counsels  and  her  fears.  He 
made  an  attempt  to  laugh  at  her  solemnity,  but  the  effort  degen 
erated  into  a  lugubrious  chuckle,  that  died  away  in  a  hoarse 
whisper  in  his  throat. 

"  Tell  me  what  you  know"  he  at  length  exclaimed,  in  a  tone 
of  bii.phatic  utterance  which  sufficiently  declared  his  apprch«%.M 
eious  —  "speak  not  to  me  of  your  presentiments,  and  all  that 
sort  of  superstitious  nonsei.se,  but  tell  rne  what  you  hav.  Heard 


475  HOK'DKll    IJEAGLKS. 

—  U.-/UU  mat  /.•>«"('•.  Come —  you  have  it  all  fmm  your  man, 
Rawlnis  ; —  if  you  really  desire  to  serve  my  father,  and  TO  save 
me,  his  dutiful  son,  to  Ins  embraces,  let  me  know  what  the  plan 
is  for  tln».  catching  of  the  beagj,"-  A  word,  Rachel  Morrison,  a 
single  word  of  positive  assurance  will  do  more  than  all  your 
conjectures,  superstitions,  and  fancies.  Speak  that  word  and  I 
remain  at  Ziou's  Hill  —  I  remain  with  you." 

"With  me!  —  But  no!  I  will  speak  no  bitterness,  Gideon,  in 
this  moment,  when  your  life  and  my  hope  may  equally  lest 
upon  the  verge  of  a  dreadful  precipice." 

"  Your  hope  and  my  life  !  What  mean  you  1  1  do  not  under 
stand  the  connection." 

"Nor  will  I  explain  it,  Gideon.  The  only  warning  which  I 
am  willing  that  you  shall  understand  is  one  that  I  am  willing  to 
repeat.  Your  insolent  words,  tone,  and  manner,  shall  not  make 
me  less  desirous  of  your  safety ;  since  nothing  that  you  can  say  or 
do,  can  make  me  lose  sight  of  what  I  owe  to  your  venerable 
father." 

"  Oh  this  is  all  talk,  Rachel.  Can  you  or  will  you  tell  n  e 
nothing  of  these  handsome  fellows  that  are  so  valiantly  resolved 
to  pursue  my  comrades  into  the  swamp  ?  You  see,  I  admit 
them  to  be  comrades.  You  have  proved  yourself  so  close  a 
keeper  of  the  secret  heretofore,  that  I  can  not  hesitate  in  confi 
ding  to  you  my  admission  of  the  truth.  I  tell  you,  therefore, 
that  I  am  sworn  to  go  to  the  swamp  to-night  —  sworn  to  myself 
and  them  — to  convey  the  intelligence  of  the  danger  which  is 
supposed  to  threaten  them.  1  am  bound  to  them  for  this.  My 
safety —  my  very  life  depends  upon  it.  If  I  fail  them,  they 
have  their  laws  and  penalties,  to  which  those  of  society  are  hut 
t0yS_  the  merest  trifles  that  ever  yet  assumed  the  features  of 
danger  to  the  eyes  of  man.  Now,  Rachel,  let  me  but  clearly  see 
that  there  is  an  occasion  for  your  caution,  and  I  will  not  go. 
will  have  an  excuse  which  shall  secure  me  from  the  penalties  of 
any  violated  oath." 

"  Father  in  heaven  !    and  can  it  be,  Gideon  Badger,  thai  y»\: 
are  so  fearfully  related  to  these  men  ?" 

"  Pshaw!   Rachel  —  you  waste  time  with  these  interjection.-,' 
replied  the  youth  with  tones  of  dogged  impatience. 
point— to  the  point.     Is  there  present  danger  to  me,  ami  wUi 


THE   WOLF   AT   BAY.  475 

is  its  form — whence  comes  it — from  whom — where?  To  that — to 
that,  Rachel.  Speak  to  that." 

'  Have  I  not  said — have  you  not  heard?  Surely  you  do  not 
despise  the  attempts  which  Walter  Rawlins  and  Mr.  Vernon  are  now 
making?  You  have  heard  the  men  that  brought  in  the 
prisoners?  " 

"Surely  I  know  all  this,  Rachel  Merrison,  but  I  thought  you  knew 
more.  Knowing  this,  I  yet  resolve  to  go.  As  for  the  danger,  set 
your  heart  easy  on  that  subject.  By  the  dawn,  wJ|en  your  gallant  is 
in  motion  for  the  swamp,  I  shall  be  at  Zion's  Hill  again,  or  so  near  it  as 
to  smell  the  breakfast;  and  the  beagles  will  be  so  far  on  their  way  from 
the  place  of  danger  that  their  nests  will  be  cold  enough  when  the 
hunters  arrive.  So,  Rachel,  if  you  will  not  think  better  of  it,  and  go 
with  me — I  renew  my  offer — the  best  counsel  I  can  give  you  is,  to 
get  to  bed  as  soon  as  you  may,  and  dream  of  more  evil  for  Gideon 
Badger.  It  will  be  easy  to  dream  of  that  which  we  sincerely 
wish . " 

"  I  wish  you  nothing  but  good,  Gideon,  and  once  more  warn  you 
not  to  go  into  the  swamp  to-night.  There  is  blood  upon  the  path. 
Something  tells  me  it  will  be  fatal  to  you  if  you  go. " 

"  Unless  you  go  with  me,  Rachel.  Nay,  why  will  you  be  so  stub 
born?  You  know  not  what  you  lose,  Rachel!  Joys  of  which  you 
never  dreamed,  and — " 

"Go!  evil  son  of  a  worthy  father— go!"  was  the  stern  interruption 
of  the  maiden,  as  she  turned  from  the  reprobate.  ' '  You  obey  a  written 
destiny.  God  will  not  suffer  you  to  be  saved  by  so  feeble  an  instru 
ment  as  I." 

The  solemnity  of  these  tones  sounded  like  a  trumpet  in  the 
ears  of  the  dissolute  youth,  and  the  feeling  of  awful  conviction 
which  lay  at  the  heart  of  Rachel  Morrison,  and  which  impressed 
her  with  the  faith  that  no  further  effort  could  help  him  who  had 
been  delivered  over  to  his  doom  by  the  fiat  of  Heaven,  for  a 
moment  impressed  itself  also  upon  the  soul  of  the  person  whom 
it  chiefly  interested.  But  this  feeling  was  not  suffered  to  obtain 
more  than  a  moment's  ascendency.  The  coward  is  frequently 
rash  through  a  consciousness  of  his  own  cowardice,  and  the  con 
viction  that  he  really  trembles,  leads  him  to  resolve  upon  a 
course  which  shall  convince  the  spectator  that  he  was  never 


476  BORDER    BTvUf!  •>•. 

more  courageous  in  his  life,  lie  Ir.i  «.:';<;"  ;:t  ti.r  <»ii:cns  which 
made  him  shudder,  and  mocked  at  the  warning  which  terrified 
him.  He  strove  to  shroud  his  apprehensions  in  his  ribaldry, 
and  his  last  words  to  the  maiden  consisted  in  a  renewal  of  his 
proposition  to  share  with  him  the  licentious  life  of  the  swamp  • 
the  freedom  from  all  restraint,  which,  to  his  mind,  seemed  th;. 
very  acme  of  human  freedom  and  felicity.  She  answered  his 
proposition  by  a  prayer  contained  in  a  single  sentence  which  in 
creased  the  awe  ^at  dwelt  within  his  heart :  "  Cut  him  not  off 
in  his  sins.  Oh,  G  d!  smite  him  nnt  suddenly  in  thy  anger." 

He  disappeared  in  that  instant.  He  had  not  the  spirit  to 
respond  to  this. 

Meanwhile,  the  reader  must  not  suppose  that  the  business  in 
the  swamp  remained  at  a  stand.  On  the  contrary,  never  were 
men  more  alert  to  do  execution  in  an  enemy's  country,  than  the 
worthy  fellows  under  their  several  leaders,  Rawlins,  Jamison 
and  the  amateur.  The  latter,  however,  resolute  as  any  of  the 
rest,  when  he  reached  the  spot  where  he  had  lost  his  every-day 
habiliments,  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  giving  to  his  lit 
tle  band,  a  brief  narrative  of  those  afflicting  events  and  the 
other  circumstances  that  followed  his  arrival  in  the  swamp,  and 
his  connection  with  that  \rch-beagle,  Jones. 

At  another  moment  it  migl'i:  jrnuse  the  reader,  vvLo  is  already 
familiar  with  these  circumstances,  to  hear  Horsey  relate  them 
His  story  would  seem  a  very  different  one  from  ours.  Nay,  thr. 
two  would  scarce  seem  identical  in  any  one  respect,  RO  complete 
ly  did  he  suppress  those  proofs  of  mental  flexibility— not  U 
say  gullibility  —  on  his  part,  which  rendered  it  so  easy  a  mat 
ter  for  the  cunning  outlaw  to  persuade  him  that  the  nioon  was 
a  green  cheese,  and  he  the* best  man  to  cut  it.  As  ho  told  the 
tale,  it  seemed  to  his  hearers,  that  he  had  traced  the  outlaws  to 
their  haunts  designedly  —  that  he  had  cheated  the  dull  dogs  into 
the  belief  that  he  was  a  simple  citizen,  ambitious  of  no  for 
tune  more  lofty  than  that  of  bringing  the  house  clown  in  applau 
ses  of  his  superior  merits  as  an  actor  —  beyond  Komble  arid 
Forrest,  Kean  and  Cooper.  How  he  had  concealed  his  real 
purposes,  and  fathomed  theirs;  how  he.  had  traversed  their  ha n -its. 
traced  their  secrets,  learned  their  signs,  and  read  all  their  inyo- 
teries,  is  a  history  to  itself  which  might  deserve  its  owu  vc.«.ut.,< 


THE    WOLF    AT   BAY.  4i  I 

Yet.  such  was  the  fellow's  ingenuity,  he  toll  no  Re ---no  actual 
lie  —  and  certainly  meant  none.  His  was  one  of  those  active 
and  tiexihle  imaginations  that  grow  ductile,  at  the  slightest  pres 
sure  and  catch  the  slightest  change  of  color  from  the-  moPT 
casual  cloud.  His  bricks  soon  became  marble,  and  his  Nnc^ 
never  went  without  its  wings. 

On  the  present  occasion  it  almost  involved  him  in  a  \\uti,e 
difficulty  than  he  had  ever  been  in  before.  While  lie  reiMs-'i 
his  experience  among  the  beagles,  who  should  he  encounter  but 
his  old  acquaintance,  Mr.  Bull  —  Aristophanes  Bull  —  whose 
headstrong  opposition  had  already  been  a  source  of  such  infinite 
discomfiture  to  him  ;  and  who,  if  time  had  been  given  him,  might 
very  soon  have  corrected  the  little  mistakes  so  naturally  made 
in  Horsey's  narration.  Fortunately,  Bull  had  been  at  his  usual 
potations,  and  our  actor  was  no  less  prompt  in  action  than  iu 
speech.  When  Bull  struggled  forward,  with  a  skin  full,  thorough 
ly  soaked,  and  only  half  conscious  of  the  globe's  motion  asking 
in  hoarse  tones,  and  with  a  hiccough  :  "  What  the  li-ll's  the 
matter  here,  boys?"  —  he  received  in  reply,  a  blow  over  t'lio 
skull  from  Horsey's  pistol  in  such  downright  good  earnest  that, 
it  would  have  tasked  the  powers  of  all  the  Bull  breed  to  have 
kept  him  well-balanced  under  it.  Down  he  went,  with  a  thump 
that  fully  assured  the  actor  of  his  intention  to  await  him  there. 

This  occurrence  took  place  not  twenty  steps  from  the  sleeping- 
place  of  Jones;  and  Horsey  —  little  prudent  as  he  was  —  began 
to  entertain  some  misgivings  that  this  cunning  outlaw  might  be 
alarmed  by  the  noise,  and  would  give  him  trouble.  A  clump  of 
shrub  trees  and  one  sturdy  pine,  stood  between  them  and  their 
victim ;  and  here  he  commanded  his  men  to  pause  until  he  should 
survey  the  ground  alone. 

He  advanced  cautiously,  keeping  himself  under  cover  of  the 
shrubbery  as  he  went  forward,  and  soon  had  the  satisfaction  to 
find  that  all  was  quiet  in  the  sylvan  wigwam.  He  then  motiunca 
his  fellows  to  advance  ,  and  two  at  the  entrance,  and  three  other* 
conveniently  stationed  to  yield  assistance  to  the  active  assailants, 
entirely  cut  off  the  outlaw's  hope  of  escape. 

Still  he  miglit  give  the  alarm,  and  this  it  was  important  to  pre 
vent.  Handkerchiefs  were  brought  forward  and^got  in  readiness, 
while  Horsey  led  the  way  and  boldly  penetrated  tjio  tent  of  poleb 


IT.*  BORDER    BEAGLKS. 

and  bashes  under  which  the  enemy  slept.  A  stout  rl'iimv  follow, 
ed  and  seconded  him,  and  the  deep  breathing  of  the  outlaw 
p-uided  them  to  the  particular  place  of  his  repose. 

Still  they  could  see  nothing.  They  had  to  be  guided  entirely 
by  the  sense  of  feeling  and  the  ear.  At  length,  after  mucb 
cautious  management  and  some  delay,  they  placed  themselves 
0:1  each  side  of  his  head.  This  ascertained,  a  whisper  gave  the 
signal,  and  while  the  stout  companion  of  Horsey  threw  himself 
on  the  outlaw,  the  latter  adroitly  passed  a  slip-noose  around 
his  neck,  and  awakened  the  sleeper  to  consciousness  by  a  pres 
sure  of  no  moderate  force.  The  arms  and  feet  of  their  captive 
were  meanwhile  secured  by  the  rest  of  their  comrades,  and  the 
power  of  further  harm  was  taken  from  him  with  a  promptness 
and  completeness,  that  would  have  been  creditable  to  greater 
proficients. 

Still,  with  all  their  precautions,  they  could  not  altogether 
prevent  hid  giving  some  alarm.  With  the  readiness  of  a  veteran 
the  outlaw,  at  the  first  consciousness  which  he  had  of  the  danger 
endeavored  to  shout  the  signal  of  the  band  —  a  whoop,  borrowed 
from  the  Indians,  which,  with  better  lungs,  they  had  learned  to 
endow  with  a  somewhat  more  terrific  energy  — but  the  unre 
lenting  fingers  of  Horsey  were  as  prompt  as  the  beagle's  tongue, 
and  the  pressure  of  the  ligature  around  the  jugular,  suddenly 
cut  short  the  sounds  before  they  had  acquired  sufficient  vigor  to 
pass  beyond  the  gorge  of  his  throat.  A  guard  was  set  over  him, 
with  orders  to  shoot  him  at  the  first  movement  or  show  of  rescue, 
while  the  rest  of  the  captors  proceeded  in  search  of  other  foes. 

It  will  not  need  that  we  follow  them.  It  may  be  necessary, 
however,  to  note  one  adventure  of  the  party  under  Jamison. 
The  worthy  Alabamian  was  a  second  time  fortunate  in  meeting 
with  his  quondam  friend,  the  Irishman,  Dennis  O'Dougherty. 
His  knee  was  upon  the  fellow's  chest  in  the  dark,  when  the 
brogue  of  the  struggling  prisoner  declared  who  he  was. 

"  Ha  !    Dennis,  my  boy  —  is  it  you  ?" 

"By  J-BUS,  honey,  but  you're  a  bit  mistaken  in  the  parson. 
I'm  a  very  different  jontleman,  to  your  liking." 

An  effort  to  rise  succeeded  this  speech,  which  the  Alabamian 
effectually  arrested  by  tickling  the  throat  of  his  prisoner  with 
the  point  of  his  bowis. 


THE    WOLF    AT    u.\\  -tf? 

•4  He  asy  now,  will  you!  —  and  don't  be  afther  giving  your- 
elf  any  more  thVoubie.     Don't  you  think  I  understand  plain 
spaking,  my  honey  ?" 

"  You're  no  fool,  Dennis,"  said  the  Alabamian,  as  he  found 
ni-3  Irishman  lying  quiet.  "Had  you  twisted  the^t^st  inch 
f  your  animal,  Dennis,  after  the  hint  I  gave  y.u,  T'u  h ..'  been 
through  you  with  more  steel  than  Dick  Smlrh  v«r  owJl.wed. 
I  will  but  run  a  ploughline  under  your  ;-,rj;i3,  D^inia,  t.  keep 
you  comfortable,  and  you  may  tharv.  :~ie  iliat  I  <Li.'c  put  it 
i  bout  your  gullet.  Is  it  easy  to  your  V^QW.  Dennis  *," 

11  Asy  '     J-sus,  Mr.  Jamison,  &ro  you  a  joutleman  ? ' 

Well,  anything  to  make  you  comfortable;  and  to  I'll  let 
out  a  little;  but,  look  you,  Dermie,  be  quiet.  I'm  going  from 
you  a  bit,  and  if  you're  not  quiet,  tlio  man  that  watches  you 
won't  leave  the  skin  to  your  teeth.  He's  a  raal  Ingiu  at  sculp 
ing,  and  your  head  will  b<  t  his  skirts,  .vhile  your  tongue's 
chattering  about  it." 

But  the  smaller  villains  are  not  our  oLject,  and  it  will  suffix 
to  say,  that  it  was  not  a  difficult  task,  so  complete  had  bo-Mi  tin.' 
surprise,  to  capture  nearly  all  the  inmates  of  the  SWP.TJJII.  The 
number  at  Cane  Castle  was  usually  small  —  the  great  bvdy  of 
the  fraternity,  as  detailed  in  our  former  work,  being  dig-age-.!  in 
active  operations  while  traversing  the  country.  Voi'iion  knew 
til?',  everything  depended  on  the  capture  or  death  of  tiie  chief 
-  the  master-spirit  who  had  conceived  a  plan  of  opeiatious  so 
'  xtensive,  so  bold,  so  well  detailed,  and  so  sternly  carried  out. 
To  this  labor,  as  we  have  seen,  he  devoted  himself.  A  livelier 
interest  served  to  stimulate  his  zeal,  and  to  make  bin;  no  less 
anxious  and  eager  than  resolute  for  the  conflict.  He  knew  that 
if  he  found  Saxon  awake,  the  struggle  that  would  probably 
ensue,  must  be  mortal.  For  this  issue  his  energies  of  mind  ayj 
body  were  braced  to  the  utmost,  and  the  image  of  Virgin! 
Maitland,  in  the  power  of  the  ruffian  and  suffering  from  his  vie 
lence,  gave  a  terrible  earnestness  to  his  resolve,  from  the  firs., 
moment  when  he  embarked  upon  ihe  adventure.  He  did  mid 
the  outlaw  awake,  and  under  cii*  ;::mstances  to  keep  alive  the  in 
dignation  and  resolution  of  his  heart.  Conducted  by  the  dwarf 
Stillyarrls,  to  the  wigwam,  known  among  the  beagles  as  the 
equatter'ri  cabin  at  LitUe  Bend,  he  beheld  at  a  single  glance,  th«> 


480 

object  of  his  affections,  and  the  object  of  lily  hate.  Virginia  Mail 
land  was  before  him,  and  before  her  was  Saxon.  •  The  circumstan 
ces  under  which  they  stood,  made  the  blood  boil  within  the  veim 
of  the  inflamed  beholder,  and  he  found  it  difficult,  so  to  restrain 
his  pastil!,  as  to  look  around  him  with  deliberation,  and  deter 
mine  calmly  wlat  course  to  pursue.  The  house  in  which  the} 
were,  was  a  common  fabric  of  logs  such  as  is  universal  in  the 
new  countries  of  tlio  southwest.  It  stood  upon  pine  blocks, 
about  four  feet  from  the  ground.  It  consisted  of  two  rooms, 
separated  from  each  other  by  a  thin  partition,  the  door  of  which 
opened  iu  the  centre.  Eaoli  room  had  an  entrance  from  with 
out,  independent  of  the  othor,  and  a  single  window  in  each  suf 
ficed  to  give  it  light.  On  the  present  occasion  the  doors  and 
windows  were  closed,  and  the  observation  of  Vernon  was  made 
through  crevices  between  ihe  logs  of  the  building,  of  which  the 
number  was  sufficient  for  all  the  purposes  of  espionage.  Con 
ducted  by  the  dwarf,  Stilly  ards,  to  one  of  these  crevices,  which 
the  urchin  seemed  to  find  very  readily,  the  objects  that  met  the 
eyes  of  Vernon  increased  his  emotions.  Virginia  Maitland  was 
seated  on  a  rude  chair,  at  the  door-way  between  the  two  rooms, 
her  back  to  the  one,  which  happened  to  be  the  sleeping  apart 
ment,  and  her  face  to  Saxon,  who  strode  the  room  before  her. 
tier  hands  were  clasped  and  resting  upon  her  knees.  Her 
neck  and  head  were  bent  forward,  while  her  eyes,  with  a  tear 
less  anxiety,  watched  every  movement  of  the  outlaw,  as  keenly 
as  one  would  watch  the  form  of  the  panther  crouching  in  the 
tree  above  him,  and  in  the  attitude  to  spring.  It  was  evident 
that  as  yet  no  outrage,  other  than  that  of  her  abduction,  had 
been  attempted  by  the  ruffian  ;  but  her  looks  amply  testified 
her  fears,  while  his  as  clearly  manifested  his  desires.  That  the 
outlaw  had  been  striving  to  persuade  her  to  his  purposes  was 
Hvident  enough,  and  that  his  persuasions  only  awakened  her 
apprehensions,  might  be  inferred  from  her  attitude  of  mixed 
prayer,  watchfulness,  and  terror. 

Such  was  the  picture  that  first  met  the  eye  of  Vernon.  The 
w-iids  of  Saxon  a  moment  after,  that  met  his  ears,  confirmed 
:11  the  first  impressions  which  it  made,  upon  his  mind  ;  and  he 
placed  the  muzzle  of  his  pistol,  which  was  already  cocked  and 
'n  his  h?ind,  at  the  opening,  which  was  sufficiently  large  to 


THE    WOLF   AT    BAY.  481 

idmit  of  his  certain  aim  at  the  ruffian.  Bui  his  check  glowed 
a  moment  after  with  a  feeling  akin  to  shame.  Vemon  was  not 
familiar  with  the  shedding  of  blood,  and  no  man  who  is  not  — 
unless  he  be  equally  cowardly  and  malignant  —  can  possibly 
take  life,  except  in  the  whirl  and  excitement  of  actual  conflict. 
He  felt  that  there  was  something  base,  from  his  place  of  con 
cealment,  to  shoot  down  the  unconscious  man,  however  deser 
ving  he  might  be  of  his  doom.  To  fling  down  from  its  erect 
place  and  posture  an  image  so  noble,  made  after  the  form  of 
God,  and  filled  with  such  godlike  attributes  and  endowments 
is,  at  best,  and  under  its  most  justifiable  circumstances,  a  mel 
ancholy  performance ;  and  with  something  of  a  romantic  reso 
lution,  such  as  makes  the  wisest  of  men  rash  at  seasons,  he  de 
termined  upon  the  bolder  and  more  generous  measure  of  giving 
the  outlaw  the  benefit  of  an  equal  struggle.  Such  a  prixe  as 
Virginia  Maitland,  seemed  to  justify  every  hazard,  and  Vernou 
resolved  upon  the  very  last. 

lie  rose  from  his  recumbent  position,  and  was  about  to  pro 
ceed  toward  the  doorway,  when  he  felt  a  hand  laid  lightly  upon 
his  shoulder.  Stillyards,  meanwhile,  had  disappeared.  lie 
turned  at  the  interruption  —  fancying  another  enemy  at  his 
elbow  —  and  met  the  eyes  of  a  woman  —  one  so  youthful  and 
so  beautiful  as  to  strike  him  with  wonder  at  seeing  her  in  so 
wild  a  place.  She  met  his  gaze  seemingly  without  emotion. 
There  was  a  calm  solemnity  in  her  aspect,  seen  by  the  serious 
starlight,  which  riveted  his  attention,  commanded  his  respect, 
and  would  have  subdued,  even  in  a  far  less  raverent  mind  than 
his,  any  ribald  thoughts  or  suspicions. 

"  Stay  !  —  but  a  single  instant,"  she  whispered,  and  her  up 
lifted  finger  gave  him  like  warning.  Before  he  could  answer 
her,  or  imagine  the  object  of  her  intrusion,  she  was  gone  from 
sight  —  literally  vanished  behind  an  angle  of  the  building. 

But  her  warning  was  forgotten  with  her  disappearance.  Ver- 
non  was  too  much  aroused  for  unnecessary  delay,  particularly. 
too,  as  he  saw  not  the  reason  of  the  woman's  injunctions ;  and. 
just  then,  the  pleading  tones  of  Virginia's  voice  reached  hi' 
ears  in  supplication  and  alarm.  Breathless,  he  darted  upon  the 
steps  of  massive  pine  that  led  to  the  door  of  the  building,  and 
with  a  single  blow  of  his  heel,  sent  it  from  its  hinges.  Another 


482  BOIiDKit    BKAGLKS. 

moment  found  hiir.  within  the  apartment,  and  face  to  face  with 
the  outlaw. 

The  proceeding  was  the  work  of  an  instant,  but  it  found  the 
outlaw  prepared.  He  seized  his  pistols,  which  lay  on  a  table 
near  him,  and  instantly  presented  them. 

Vernon  had  not  seen  them  before ;  and  had  he  but  waited, 
as  he  had  been  counselled  by  Florence  Marbois,  this  danger 
would  have  been  spared  him.  In  the  same  moment  when  Saxon 
grasped  the  weapons,  the  hand  of  Florence  was  stretched  out 
from  the  inner  apartment  to  which  she  had  penetrated  with 
noiseless  footsteps,  for  the  purpose  of  securing  thein. 

But,  though  Saxon  grasped  and  cocked  the  pistols  at  hi« 
enemy,  he  did  not  dare  to  use  them.  With  the  first  appearance 
of  Vernon,  Virginia  had  started  to  her  feet,  and  at  the  sight  of 
his  danger,  she  rushed  between  the  parties,  alternately  turning 
an  imploring  face  and  an  uplifted  hand  to  each.  She  no  longer 
exhibited  the  passive  attitude  of  fear.  All  apprehension  for 
herself  departed  when  she  feared  for  her  lover;  and  that  living 
grace  of  form  and  movement,  which  speaks  out  when  the 
mother-mood  prevails,  riveted,  at  the  same  moment,  witb  a 
sense  of  equal  admiration,  the  souls  of  Vernon  and  the  outlaw. 

And  there,  on  each  side  of  her,  the  hostile  parties  stood  — 
she,  the  angel  between  them,  preventing  strife,  if  not  securing 
peace.  Her  words,  wild,  incoherent,  impetuous,  addressed  the 
one  and  then  the  other;  but  failed  of  much  eftect  upon  either. 
Her  position  alone  controlled  the  warfare  which  her  presence- 
was  yet  calculated  to  inspire. 

Suddenly,  the  arms  of  Saxon  were  grasped  by  Florence  from 
behind ;  a  deep  imprecation  burst  from  the  outlaw's  lips  as  he 
distinguished  her.  Vainly  did  he  strive  to  shake  her  off;  and 
the  moment  lost  in  this  effort  enabled  Vernon  to  grapple  with 
him  at  advantage.  While  they  struggled,  the  dwarf,  Stillyards, 
dropped  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  outlaw  from  the  scantling 
above ;  and  before  he  could  be  shaken  off  or  removed,  he  had 
dug  with  his  nails  —  which  had  been  suffered  to  grow  to  an  in 
ordinate  length  -7-  entirely  into  the  ears  of  his  late  leader.  This 
was  one  of  the  forms  of  retribution  which  consoled  him  for  the 
similar  indignity  to  which  Saxon  had  subjected  himself.  B) 
'•his  time  the  house  was  rilled;  and  the  outlaw  chief,  who  l.ac 


A    COUr-DE-TllEATUE,    A    LA    SlU^u;^.  -lOo 

struggled  manfully  while  any  hope  remained  to  him,  now 
yielded  quietly  to  numbers. 

"  This,  then,  is  your  work,  Florence,"  he  murmured,  as  the 
woman  he  had  wronged  confronted  him. 

"  Ay,  mine  !  I  glory  in  it  —  I  rejoice,  too,  that  you  feel  it  to 
be  mine!  You  could  scorn  my  love!  —  perhaps,  that  was  not 
so  great  an  error  as  to  scorn  my  power  !  It  glads  me  to  the  soul 
to  think  that  you  can  feel  it  and  acknowledge  it  at  last !" 

"  If  that  will  give  you  pleasure,  Florence,  he  happy.  If  it 
can  atone  for  the  wrongs  which  I  have  done  you,  to  know 
that  you  have  compassed  my  doom,  you  have  ample  vengeance. 
I  owe  my  death  to  your  hands." 

"  Your  death  atone,  Edward  Saxon,  for  my  misery  !  —  for  the 
wrong  done  to  my  honor  —  to  my  hope  —  to  my  pride  —  to  my 
affections  —  to  all  things,  and  thoughts,  and  feelings,  which  are 
dear  to  woman  —  which  ennoble  her  to  herself  and  endear  her 
to  society!  Monstrous  vanity!  Your  death,  Edward  Saxon, 
were  you  thrice  to  die,  could  never  atone  for  the  wrongs  YOU 
have  inflicted  on  the  frail,  fond,  foolish  heart  of  Florence  Mnr- 
bois !  You  have  taken  from  her  all  that  made  life  precious  — 
and  the  life  which  seems  so  desirable  to  you,  is  her  scorn  ! 
Look,  and  see  what  is  her  value  of  lifer  Edward  Saxon;  and,  if 
you  be  not  utterly  base,  you  will  yet  learn  from  her  example 
how  to  baffle  the  hangman.  She  to  whom  you  ascribe  your 
fate,  will  show  you  how  completely  indifferent  you  have  made 
her  to  her  own." 

She  advanced  closely  as  she  spoke  to  her  betrayer.  Her 
majestic  form  seemed  to  tower  far  above  its  usual  height;  and 
no  language  could  describe  the  bitter  s^orn  which  looked  from 
all  her  features,  as  she  mocked  him  with  that  love  of  life  which 
bhe  professed  to  feel  no  longer.  While  yet  the  last  words  trem 
bled  on  her  lips,  she  drove  a  dagger,  which  till  then  was  con 
cealed  within  her  garments,  deep  down  into  her  breast.  The 
deed  was  done  before  eye  could  see  or  hand  interpose  to  pre 
vent  it.  She  was  caught,  while  falling,  by  Vernon.  Her  last 
words,  clear  and  emphatic,  though  broken,  were  addressed  to 
die  outlaw : — 

"Live,  Edward  Saxon  —  if  life  be  so  precious  to  you  —  live' 


484  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

It  has  nothing  precious  now  for  me  !     To  you  I  owe  it,  at  least, 
that  death  is  also  without  pain  !     Live  !  — live  !" 

Her  eyes  followed  him  even  in  death.  He  strove,  but  vainly, 
to  avert  his  own.  He  could  not  —  he  dared  riot.  She  had  con 
quered,  and  the  spell  of  her  power  was  upon  him  in  her  dyi-m 
moments.  Unconsciously,  the  long  breath  escaped  from  hir-. 
like  a  convulsive  groan,  when  the  thick  glaze  passing  ovor  !•<:; 
eyes,  rescued  him  from  the  fascinating  intensity  of  their  gh'.nv. 
Big  drops  suddenly  started  out  upon  his  brow,  as  if  he  undri-- 
went  a  fearful  agony  ;  and  his  limbs  tottered  like  one  feel»!<- 
with  a  long  sickness,  as  they  led  him  from  the  apartment  under 
guard. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

FINALE TWO-FOLD     RINGING    OF    THE     BELLS,    FOR    FATE    AND 

FELICITY  —  FUNERAL    AND     BRIDAL. 

"Last  scene  of  all, 
That  ends  this  strange,  eventful  history." — SHAKSPERK. 

VERNON  bore  Virginia  Haiti  find,  swooning,  from  this  terrible 
scene,  the  actual  performance  of  which  had  occupied  far  less 
time  than  our  description  of  it.  It  had  passed  before  the 
maiden's  eyes,  more  like  some  dreadful  phantasmagoria  of  the 
magician,  than  an  event  of  actual  life.  He  bore  her  into  the 
fresh  air,  which  partly  revived  her ;  and,  under  the  direction 
and  with  the  assistance  of  Horsey  —  Avho  affected  a  better 
knowledge  of  Cane  Castle  than  he  really  had  —  succeeded  in 
rinding  and  conveying  her  to  the  little  cottage,  the  mLtresn  m 
which  had  put  so  fearful  a  finish  to  a  life  of  feverish  pain  an-! 
most  unhappy  excitement.  The  last  sacrifice  was  paid  to  tin- 
lingering  sentiment  of  that  love  which  still  survived  jealousy 
and  anger,  and  which  nothing  but  death  could  utterly  extin 
guish.  She  had  obtained  the  vengeance  which  she  sought ;  HIM! 
the  thirsi  i'or  which,  in  the  first  moment  of  her  misery,  had  over 
born.e  the,  more  native  feeling  of  her  heart.  That  done,  tjbu* 


FINALE.  485 

original  passion  resumed  some  portion  of  its  activity,  hut  onlv 
to  Tujike,  her  feel  still  more  acutely  the  undesirable  and  worth 
less  character  of  all  that  remained  to  life;  and  the  resolution  tc 
and  it  —  taken  at  a  moment  when  her  vengeance  was  yet  doubt 
ful —  seemed  more  than  ever  proper  to  her  abased  and  erring 
spirit,  when  its  claims  were  all  satisfied.  Is  it  sinful  to  hope 
that  her  crime  was  softened  by  her  sufferings  1  There  was  so 
much  that  was  bright  and  noble  in  her  soul  amid  all  its  sinoko 
and  impurities,  that  humanity  may  well  be  suffered  to  presume 
upon  the  indulgence  of  mercy,  in  behalf  of  one,  in  whose  soul, 
amid  all  the  cloud,  the  smoke,  and  the  impurity,  there  was  so 
much  that  was  really  noble  in  sentiment,  and  bright  and  beau 
ciful  in  thought.  Florence  Marbois,  under  other  auspices,  had 
been  one  of  those  lovely  lights  of  society,  that  guide  the  hearts 
which  they  warm,  and  hallow  the  affections  which  they  inspire 
and  requite. 

Pass  we  to  the  living,  no  less  lovely,  and  purer  woman  —  to 
the  fair  Virginia,  who,  in  the  arms  of  Vernon,  was  soon  re 
stored,  not  less  to  the  consciousness  of  life,  than  of  those  dear 
emotions  that  sanctify  and  sometimes  make  it  heaven  !  If  the 
past  scene  of  terror,  and  strife,  and  death,  through  which  she 
had  been  hurried,  was  not  forgotten,  its  sting  at  least  was  taken 
away  by  the  conviction  that  all  who  were  dear  to  her  had  gone 
through  it  in  safety,  and  that  all  danger  to  herself  and  others 
was  past.  She  could  now  breathe  in  unrestraint,  and  yield  her 
self  for  a  space  to  that  freedom  of  soul  which  delights  in  inakhip 
its  acknowledgments  to  the  beloved  one.  If  ever  maiden  were 
justified  in  speaking  freely  her  happiness  to  her  lover,  it  is  ehe 
who  has  just  been  rescued  by  \m  gallantry  from  the  most  evil 
forms  of  danger. 

Virginia,  in  the  hour  of  her  deliverance,  had  no  reserve.  She 
hung  upon  the  bosom  of  Vernon,  happy  in  the  weakness,  whicii, 
while  it  made  his  valor  dear  to  her,  furnished  her  with  the  bust 
apology  to  cling  to  his  embrace. 

A  moment  was  given  to  these  raptures —  a  brief  moment ;  and 
the  lover  was  recalled  by  one  of  his  subordinates  to  a  recollec 
tion  of  his  further  duties.  The  night  was  fleeting  fast,  and  it 
was  the  counsel  of  Rawlins,  Jamison,  and  such  other  of  his 
men,  as  had  a  claim  to  advise  in  the  proceedings,  that  they 


»'  *'  BOIIDKR    HKAdLKS. 

y;!»;!|!l  ins{;;::;!v  LTosb  llif  ri\vr.  ;i  il,  \vith  their  prisoners,  re 
trace  tlieir  steps  toward  Zion's  Hill.  But  Vcrnon  thought 
otherwise,  lie  knew  the  difficulty  of  travelling  by  night 
through  unaccustomed  swamps  along  with  a  daring  set  of  men, 
who,  though  bound,  might  yet  prove  troublesome ;  and  who- 
indeed,  might  readily  find  succor  from  passing  bands  of  their 
companions.  There  was  yet  another  reason  which  led  Vernon 
t<>  defer  the  movement  of  his  paity  until  morning. 

'Doubtless,"  he  said,  "there  are  individuals  of  this  gang 
going  from  and  coming  into  the  swamp  at  all  hours  of  the  night, 
i'y  preserving  the  utmost  silence  where  we  are,  placing  a  guard 
in  each  of  tlieir  places  of  watch,  and  answering  after  their  own 
fashion,  any  signals  that  we  may  hear  from  without,  we  shall 
be  able  to  gather  into  our  fold  a  few  more  of  these  scoundrels. 
I  would  not  like  to  do  the  work  by  halves;  still  less  am  1  wil 
ling  to  risk  what  has  been  gained  by  any  precipitation  of  move 
ment  to-night  Our  task  now  is  easy  ;  we  have  only  to  secure 
thoroughly  the  prisoners." 

"  That  is  already  done,"  said  Rawlins,  interrupting  him. 

"Then  our  we rk  is  easy.  It  lacks  but  three  hours  to  the 
dawn.  We  must  keep  our  eyes  open  for  that  space  of  time, 
and  our  weapons  ready,  and  with  the  first  gleam  of  light  we 
can  safely  cross  the  river  with  all  our  captives.  To  move  now 
would  be  to  risk  their  loss,  and,  perhaps,  our  own.  It  is  nc 
easy  matter  to  keep  track  in  a  strange  region,  and  at  night, 
with  prisoners  whom  we  may  have  to  drive  befove  us,  and  who 
might  drop  us  in  the  darkness  without  greatly  suffering  from 
our  pistols.  Have  the  horses  come?  —  have  you  heard  the  sig 
nal  from  the  other  bank  ?" 

"  They  are  there.  Pollard  crossed  over  to  them  by  my  ordci 
a  bit  ago,"  was  the  reply. 

"  It  is  well !  Everything  favors  us>  men.  We  have  lost  nc 
life,  but  little  blood,  and  have  so  far  succeeded  in  all  our  objects 
Let  us  lose  nothing  by  rashness.  Coolness  now  and  carefulness 
can  alone  secure  our  conquests.  To  you,  Rawlins,  as  you  knew 
the  swamp  best  of  all  of  us,  I  must  assign  the  task  of  placing 
guards  over  the  best  positions  —  and  —  hark  !  do  you  hear  rrtb 
ing '?  That  surely  was  a  signal." 

u  A  beag'.e,  by  the  pOAvers !     Here's  fish  for  our  net!"   *- 


FINALE.  487 

claimed  Rawlins,  as  lie  started  from  the  thicket  where  this  conference 
had  taken  place.  Jamison  was  about  to  follow,  as  also  Horsey,  but 
Vernon  arrested  them. 

"  Rawlins  is  enough,  and  you  might  confuse  him.  He  is  equal 
to  any  robber  of  the  gang,  and  will  do  the  business  more  effectually 
if  let  alone.  Hark!  already  he  answers.  His  bay  is  quite  as  good  as 
any  of  the  beagles." 

Vernon's  judgment  was  correct.  The  sturdy  woodman  hur 
ried  in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  which  still  continued  to  reach 
his  ears  at  intervals,  becoming  more  and  more  clear  and  distinct 
as  the  party  drew  nigh.  He  stationed  himself  under  cover  at  a  point 
where  he  had  surprised  one  of  the  robbers,  and,  responding  to  the 
signal  as  he  did  so,  coolly  awaited  the  approach  of  the  intruder. 
As  the  latter,  emerged  on  horseback  from  the  woods  above,  he 
addressed  the  counterfeit  presentment  with  all  the  familiarity  of  an 
old  acquaintance: — 

"Ha!  that  you,  Baker,  or  Chambers,  which!" 

Rawlins  grunted  forth  a  sound  which  might  pass  for  an 
affirmative.  He  feared  to  trust  his  own  voice  till  he  had  the 
robber  in  his  power  ;  and  it  was  fortunate  that  the  latter  had 
too  much  himself  to  say  to  regret  the  taciturnity  of  his  com 
panion.  As  he  spoke  a  chill  went  through  the  bones  of  Raw 
lins.  A  few  sentences  soon  assured  him  that  it  was  Gideon 
Badger  who  addressed  him.  That  profligate  son  of  a  man 
whose  purism  assured  him  with  a  chuckle,  that  he  was  not  like 
the  miserable  Pharisees  around  him,  having  demanded  of  the 
sentinel  to  lead  him  to  the  place  where  the  chief  of  the  outlaws 
slept,  proceeded  to  develop  his  great  discoveries  to  his  com 
panion,  in  anticipation  of  that  revelation  which  he  proposed  to 
make  to  Saxon,  and  by  which,  with  all  the  mean  spirit  of  an 
inferior's  servility,  he  calculated  to  commend  himself  to  new 
favor  in  his  sight.  Rawlins  could  only  make  his  responses  in  a 
groan. 

"  What  do  you  groan  for,  Baker? "  demanded  the  other. 
"There's  no  danger  now  that  we  know  all  about  it.  We've 
time  enough  to  scud  and  run  to-night,  and  to-morrow  we  can 
turn  upon  that  bullhead  Rawlins,  and  dog  his  heels  back  to 
Zion's  Hill.  Nay,  with  a  little  increase  of  force,  we  should  be 
able  to  lather  him  at  his  own  weapons  and  at  any  weapons 


IBS  BOEDER    BEATLES. 

Fi-r   my  pr.rt,  I'd   intlicr  it  should  b»  so.      Nothing  would 
me  half  so  much  ple-asure  as  to  try  the  chance  of  a  little 
with  that  fellow.     If  T  didn't—" 

"  Gideon  Badger,"  said  Rawlins,  in  his  natural  tone  of  voir.o, 
"  you  have  your  wish.  I  am  Wat  Rawlins,  and  we're  face  to  face. 
Now,  show  your  manhood  —  all  your  manhood,  Gideon  —  for  y  ;u 
fight,  let  me  tell  yon,  for  something  moi-e  than  Rachel  Morrison  — 
you  fight  for  life'  You  fight  with  a  rope  round  your  neck." 

"Wat  Rawlins i"  gasped  the  cor. founded  youth,  as  he  hearJ 
the  words  and  recognised  the  voice  cf  one  whom  ia  his  secret 
soirl  he  feared  —  "  can  it  be  i" 

"  A/e  you  vendy  ?"  demanded  the  woodman.  "Be  quick, 
Gideon;  I  know  I'm  not  doing  right  when  I  give  you  this 
chance  for  your  life;  I  at  I  want  to  save  your  o-kl  father  from 
the  shame  of  having  son  of  his  hung  up  by  the  necK.  If  I  kill 
you,  which  will  be  all  the  better  for  you,  I'll  keep  the  secret, 
and  bury  you  in  the  swamp  with  my  own  hands,  so  that  nobod} 
ghall  ever  know  that  we  met  you  here  to-night.  Come  !" 

"  I  will  not  fight  with  you,"  was  the  hoarse  but  trerair  u* 
•espouse  of  the  youth. 

"I'm  sorry  for  you,  Gideon  Badger,"  said  Rawlins,  with  i:-'- 
ixpression  of  pity  in  his  accents,  not  unmingled  with  flisg*«,:\ 
'  [  wo-dd  have  saved  yo"  from  something  worse  than  dea''.:. 
j'm  sorry  you're  not  .  biave  as  your  father.  I  can  do  u- 
more.  You  must  go  with  _-«e  —  you're  my  prisoner." 

He  grasped  the  imbecile  around  his  body  as  lie  spoke,  \vith  •* 
grasp  that  would  have  defied  his  upmost  powers.  But  these  the 
unhappy  youth  did  not  offer  to  exe.  "^e  His  heart  seemed  l: 
have  turned  to  water  with  the  first  conviction  of  1...  mind  tin!' 
W.'ilror  Rawlins  really  stood  before  him.  LI  is  nerves  failed 
hi, i..  His  muscles  shrunk  and  seemed  t«>  »«:»»*—  p«u-linscar 
rjjd  him  inU  .^.-citce  of  \  C'rnon  o...*  cv.e,  if.sr  with  as  nitt.- 

ti.-iuble  as  if  he  had  been  an  infai?t. 

The  victors,  having  secured  their  new  captive,  had  no  fnrlhtv- 
interruption  in  the  swamp  that  night.  With  the  first  glimmer 
iag  of  dawn,  Vernon  made  his  preparations  for  crossing  t»>e 
river  to  the  place  where  the  horses  of  the  party  had  beer,  p.sr- 
ried.  This  was  a  tusk  more  tedious  than  difficult.  Seine  of  -.h*-. 
iri^n  M«-,re  compelled  to  «wim  the  river  with  a  rope  vl.icb  > 


FINALE.  489 

been  previously  fastened  to  the  flat,  and  which,  was  absolutely 
necessary  in  conveying  across  the  river  Virginia  Maitland,  Mrs. 
Yarbers  —  who  had  been  an  active  coadjutor  of  the  assailing 
party — the  prisoners  and  the  inanimate  form  of  Florence  Mar- 
bois,  which  the  gentler  heart  of  Virginia  would  not  suffer  to  be 
buried  in  the  still  and  gloomy  recesses  of  that  swamp  forest  in 
which  she  had  dwelt  so  long.  Rawlins  ventured  to  promise  that 
the  cemetery  at  Zion's  Hill  should  yield  her  a  more  consecrated 
place  of  repose.  Her  body,  stretched  out  in  the  bottom  of  the 
boat,  and  completely  enveloped  in  a  cloak,  was  a  subject  of 
fearful  interest  to  Saxon,  who  was  compelled  from  the  smalliiess 
of  the  vessel  and  the  number  of  its  passengers,  to  remain  un 
willingly  contiguous  to  it.  More  than  once  was  he  seen  to  shudder 
as  he  looked  upon  the  unmeaning  and  almost  shapeless  outline, 
through  the  thick  envelope  of  which,  however,  his  keen-eyed  and 
conscious  spirit,  beheld  the  reproachful  expression  of  that  face, 
and  all  those  glances  of  love,  and  those  features  of  beauty,  which 
had  once  yielded  him  so  much  delight,  and  which  his  own  capricious 
and  unjust  passions  had  obliterated  and  destroyed.  His  present  sit 
uation,  mostly  to  be  ascribed  to  his  own  injustice  to  the  one  who 
most  loved  him,  gave  emphasis  to  those  rebukes  of  conscience  which 
now,  for  the  first  time,  were  acutely  active  in  the  contemplation  of 
her  corse.  At  this  moment  a  persuasion  of  sentimental  softness 
almost  seized  his  mind — he  felt  that  love  would  have  still  preserved 
him  had  he  still  been  true  to  love.  Unhappily  for  him  and  her,  love 
and  conscience  equally  spoke  too  late .  A  desperate  resolution  suc 
ceeded  in  his  mind,  and  he  turned  his  eyes  upon  the  dark  and 
turbid  waters  over  which  he  was  passing  with  an  expression  of  anxious 
desire. 

Could  he  gain  the  side  of  the  boat,  a  single  plunge  would 
baffle  his  captors,  and  defeat  all  the  terrors  of  a  public  doom. 
His  hands  were  bound,  but  his  feet  were  free.  He  gave  a  single 
glance  to  the  inanimate  form  of  Florence,  and  made  a  move 
ment  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  flat.  Already  his  foot  touched 
the  low  gunwale,  when  the  firm  grasp  of  the  watchful  Vernon 
upon  his  shoulder,  showed  him  that  his  object  was  discovered, 
he  was  led  back  into  the  center  of  the  boat  and  surrounded  by 
those  who  noted  all  his  movements,  with  eyes  too  jealous  to 

21* 


490  BOEUEil   BEAGLES. 

leave  him  any  present  hope  of  baffling  their  observation.  Bit 
ter,-  indeed,  was  the  glance  he  cast  upon  Vernon,  as  the  latter  with 
drew  his  hand  from  the  shoulder  of  the  felon. 

"There  was  a  time,  Mr.  Vernon,  when  you  were  less  willing 
to  approach  me  with  so  little  scruple ;  —  that,  however,  was 
when  I  was  better  able  to  approach  you.  Times  change,  and 
he  who  would  have  trembled  to  hear  the  lion's  growl  in  the 
desert,  takes  him  boldly  by  the  mane  when  in  the  menagerie. 
Well!  courage  seems  to  depend  very  much  upon  the  season. 
A  bright  or  dark  day  makes  a  wonderful  difference,  in  the 
hearts  of  men.  You  are  in  season  no\v,  sir,  much  more  so,  I 
think,  than  when  I  met  you  at  Lucchesa.  Your  hand  is  more  ready 
now  " 

"It  is  my  good  fortune  to  improve  then,  sir,"  replied  Vernon, 
mildly  and  with  a  smile.  "As  for  your  notion  of  my  courage, 
let  that  be  as  you  choose.  If  you  can  really  persuade  yourself 
that  it  is  not  of  the  proper  kind,  and  the  persuasion  pleases  you, 
indulge  it.  My  courage  is  of  a  sort  that  will  remain  perfectly 
unaffected,  whatever  course  your  opinion  may  take  upon  it. 
Another  quality  of  'it  will  be  to  take  every  precaution  against 
the  exercise  of  yours.  In  my  custody  you  are  safe  enough.  I 
would  not  forget  myself,  sir,  by  using  the  language  of  exulta 
tion  over  a  prisoner,  however  small  may  be  the  forbearance  which  he 
merits  at  my  hands." 

"Oh,  you  are  too  indulgent!"  was  the  almost  fierce  reply  of  the 
outlaw — "too  indulgent!  Would  I  could  thank  you  as  I  could  wish 
— as  you  deserve." 

A  moment  after,  and  Saxon  felt  the  feeble  fury  of  his  manner 
and  stopped  suddenly,  while  a  burning  flush  passed  over  his 
cheeks.  Vernon  turned  away.  They  had  now  reached  the  opposite 
bank. 


An  hour  after  this  and  the  cavalcade  encountered  a  motley 
party  of  ten  or  a  dozen  men,  headed  by  old  William  Badger 
himself.  He  was  dressed  up  partially  in  some  of  the  remnants 
of  the  ancient  uniform  which  he  wore  when  he  followed  Andrew 
Jackson  down  from  Tennessee  to  his  Indian  battles  in  the  south 
west.  The  old  and  ragged  cap  which  covered  his  grisly  locks, 
the  pistol  in  his  holsters,  the  belt  about  liis  waist,  and  the  long 


FINALE.  491 

rifle  in  his  grasp — were  all  the  same  ;  and  here,  it  may  be  added  that, 
though  he  wore  it  not  on  this  occasion,  he  yet,  before  sallying  forth 
that  morning,  gave  a  long  and  curious  examination  to  the  ancient 
and  motley  blue  wrapper,  known  in  its  day  as  a  hunting-shirt — which 
had  been  too  intimately  associated  in  all  the  deeds  and  doings  of  his 
prime  to  be  discarded  altogether  even  when  the  period  of  its  useful 
ness  was  past. 

The  ancient  leader,  however,  made  a  far  less  ludicrous  appearance 
than  his  men,  with  whom,  in  the  sudden  emergency  that  called  them 
forth,  motley  seemed  indeed  to  be  "the  only  wear."  At  another 
time,  the  appearance  of  this  regiment  would  have  moved  Vernon  and 
all  his  followers  to  unrestrained  merriment ;  but  there  was  a  strong 
feeling  in  their  hearts  at  this  moment  which  effectually  restrained  all 
lighter  moods.  The  thought  that  the  venerable  old  man  was  march 
ing  forward  to  behold  his  own  and  only  son,  bound  as  an  outlaw, 
and  destined  to  all  the  penalties  of  such  a  life,  filled  them  all  with  a 
sorrow  that  was  not  less  deep  because  it  was  speechless.  The  very 
unconsciousness  of  the  old  man  as  he  drew  nigh — the  rigid  and 
pompous  erection  of  his  carriage,  and  the  swelling  dignity  of  his 
manner— contributed  to  increase  the  solemnity  of  their  feelings. 
Who  should  convey  the  truth  to  the  father  ?  It  tasked  the  boldest 
heart  and  the  best  mind  of  the  troop. 

Vernon  rode  forward  as  he  approached,  and  giving  instructions 
with  Rawlins  to  keep  his  prisoners  out  of  sight  as  long  as  possible, 
undertook  the  painful  task  of  revealing  the  truth  to  the  venerable 
elder.  The  task  was  rendered  more  difficult  by  the  self-esteem  of 
Badger.  Assuming  himself  to  have  been  ill-treated,  over-looked, 
slighted,  and  in  fact  thrust  aside  from  the  performance  of  his  proper 
duties,  by  beardless  boys,  still  in  the  gristle,  inspired  more  by  pre 
sumption  than  patriotism,  he  scarcely  gave  Vernon  a  civil  recog 
nition. 

But  the  latter,  at  such  a  time,  and  to  one  so  much  his  elder,  would 
have  been  ashamed  to  entertain  any  boyish  resentments;  and  he 
bore  patiently  with  the  captiousness  of  the  father,  and  by  gradual 
degrees,  brought  him  step  by  step  to  a  consciousness  of  the  gulf  that 
was  so  suddenly  to  open  before  him.  When  the  truth  was  fully 
shown— when  the  tale  was  fully  told— there  was  no  more  visible 
emotion  in  the  face  of  the  hearer,  beyond  a  slight  quiver  of  the  lips, 


492  BORDER   BEAGLES. 

than  if  he  had  listened  to  the  most  ordinary  intelligence.  His  keen 
eyes,  from  under  their  shaggy  brows,  narrowly  scanned  the  counte 
nance  of  the  speaker,  and  there,  reading  nothing  but  sincerity  and 
distirjctness,  dropped  quietly  upon  the  ground.  His  lips  opened  but 
to  exclaim  : — 

"Son  of  mine!  son  of  mine!  Oh,  God!  thou  hast  indeed 
stricken  me  with  thy  wrath.  Verily,  thou  ha.st  terribly  rebuked  the 
pride  that  was  shooting  upward  like  a  rank  weed  within  my 
heart." 

The  exclamation  denoted  that  self-esteem,  still  strong,  still 
luxuriant,  and  still  wrell  cultivated  in  a  favorite  field,  which  was 
the  predominant  characteristic  of  his  mind.  That  Gideon  should 
be  a  bad  fellow,  was  an  unfortunate  thing  for  Gideon ;  but  it 
was  something  monstrous  exceedingly,  that  Gideon,  the  son  of 
William,  should  become  so.  "After  this" — such  was  the  still 
self -complaisant  reflection  of  the  elder — "who  will  believe  in 
education  ?  " 

The  stern  habits  of  the  soldier,  and  the  pride  of  the  patriotic  mag 
istrate,  came  to  the  succor  of  the  old  man. 

"These  wretched  people  must  be  committed  for  trial,  Mr. 
Vernon,  and  though  you  have  heretofore  found  yourself  sufficient 
to  do  without  my  help,  as  a  man,  it  is  probable  that  you  will 
require  my  assistance  as  a  magistrate.  Let  them  be  brought  before 
me,  sir,  as  soon  as  you  please,  that  I  may  examine  them  for 
commitment." 

"  All,  sir  ?  "said  Yernon. 

"Ay,  sir,  all!  God  will  sustain  me,  I  trust,  as  he  hath  ever 
done,  so  that  I  shall  be  able  to  perform  the  trusts  which  have 
been  confided  to  me,  without  fear  or  favor.  I  trust  in  his  mercy  to 
have  no  feeling  with  one  more  than  another  of  these  unhappy 
wretches." 

The  reader  need  not  ask  to  know-  how  such  a  man  went  through 
such  a  trial.  William  Badger's  proceedings  on  the  present  occasion, 
would  have  gained  for  him,  in  Roman  ages,  a  column  of  enduring 
fame. 

Our  story  is  nearly  ended.  That  very  day  Horsey  was  made 
a  special  deputy,  with  two  others,  to  arrest  Mr.  Justice  Nawls  ; 
but  the  bird  had  flown.  He  had  received  from  some  secret 
quarter  a  warning  of  his  danger,  and  had  disappeared  on  a  fleet 


FINALE.  493 

horse  an  hour  before  the  appearance  of  the  party  sent  to  arrest. 
The  return  to  the  magistrate  was  one  which  is  said  to  have  as 
sumed  the  official  dignity  in  some  of  the  states — G.  T.  T. — 
which,  rendered  into  the  vernacular,  signifies  "Gone  to  Texas." 
There  is  a  report  current  at  this  time  on  the  Big  Black,  that 
Nawls  has  become  a  great  patriot  in  Texas,  and  has  distin 
guished  himself  by  several  military  achievements  of  no  common 
order.  He  is  not  the  first  citizen  who  has  lived  a  scoundrel  to 
die  a  patriot.  It  was  fortunate  for  the  amateur  that  he  did 
not  take  Mrs.  Horsey  with  him  to  texas,  and  make  her  a  patriot 
too.  Perhaps  he  would  have  done  so,  had  time  been  allowed 
him.  How  many  good  deeds  are  defeated  through  a  want  of 
time. 

When  the  roving  husband  and  his  lovely  wife  returned  to 
Zion's  Hill,  who  should  they  encounter  there  but  the  venerable 
sire  of  the  former,  limping  as  much  as  ever,  quite  as  rash  and 
boisterous,  and  full  of  storms  and  cataracts  at  the  sight  of  the 
fugitive.  He  had  come,  in  obedience  to  Vernon's  letters,  along 
with  Ben  Carter,  and  was  confounded  to  meet  a  living  son, 
where  he  thought  it  might  be  difficult  to '"find  even  a  dead  one. 
His  very  joy — such  was  the  force  of  habit — took  the  features, 
and  indulged  in  the  language  of  anger  and  abuse. 

"  You  ungrateful  spendthrift — you — 

He  was  silenced  by  a  very  summary  proceeding.  He  little  knew 
the  sort  of  answer  his  son  had  in  store  for  him. 

"Make  you  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Tom  Horsey,  dad,"  said 
he,  with  a  swagger  admirably  theatrical,  as  he  strutted  full  up 
to  the  old  man,  with  the  shrinking  Mary  hanging  on  his  arm. 

"Mrs.  Tom  Horsey!  Why,  Tom,  it  cant't  be  possible.  I 
expected  to  find  you  dead,  and  here  you're  only  married.  But  are 
you  married,  Tom?" 

"  Ay,  dad,  if  the  ceremony  performed  by  such  a  scoundrel  as 
Squire  Nawls  is  worth  a  fig." 

"Well,  God  bless  you,  Tom — you're  born  to  be  an  actor  after 
all.  And  you,  my  gal — who  are  you — what's  your  name?  And, 
since  you  are  Tom's  wife,  give's  a  smack.  Another!  another!  Well, 
Tom,  to  a  young  man,  marrying's  not  so  bad  after  all.  But  where's 
Ben  Carter? " 

This  is  a  question  which  we  may  also  ask.     In  another  apart- 


494  BORDER  BEAGLES 

rnent,  to  themselves,  Carter  and  his  unfaithful  friend,  Maitland 
communed  for  a  lengthened  hour.  They  came  forth  reconciled. 
Maitland  frankly  confessed  his  offences  equally  against  friend 
ship  and  good  morals;  and  in  making  every  atonement  which 
had  been  left,  he  found  Carter  as  he  had  ever  found  him,  an  in 
dulgent  benefactor. 

The  relation  in  which  Vernon  stood  to  Virginia  contributed 
greatly  to  this  end.  They  also,  to  themselves,  had  their  own 
explanations  to  make,  and  their  several  adventures  to  relate; 
the  day  promised  fair,  amid  all  the  clouds  that  overcast  the  ho 
rizon  at  the  beginning,  to  terminate  in  equal  calm  and  brightness. 
To  the  three  happy  sets,  whom  we  have  conducted  with  perse 
vering  industry  through  the  groves  to  the  temple — from  love 
to  marriage — such,  indeed,  was  its  termination;  but  there  was 
one  storm  that  passed  through  the  forest  about  this  time  which 
filled  even  their  hearts  with  solemn  shudderings,  and  for  a  long 
season  after  maintained  a  heavy  weight  upon  their  memories. 
1  ,  Rawlins,  who,  with  a  select  party,  had  the  charge  of  the  prison 
ers,  returned  at  midnight,  alone,  to  Zion's  Hill,  and  brought 
with  him  a  terrible  narrative  of  outrage  and  bloodshed.  •  The 
mob  had  risen  upon  his  little  party,  and  rescued  the  prisoners 
from  his  hands.  But  they  did  not  rescue  them  to  save.  Goaded 
to  madness  by  the  long-repeated  crimes  of  the  outlaws,  they 
had  resolved  not  to  wait  the  tardy  proceedings  of  justice;  and 
in  equal  defiance  of  the  entreaties  and  the  efforts  of  the  little 
guard,  the  unhappy  criminals  were  dragged  to  death  from  their 
custody  and  protection.  Another  moment  precipitated  their 
doom.  They  wrere  drawn  up  by  the  ropes  which  bound  them, 
to  the  swinging  branches  over  head,  and  hurried  into  eternity 
without  a  moment's  grace — their  prayers  drowned — their  con 
vulsions  mocked  in  the  frantic  joy  and  the  exulting  shouts  of  the 
populace. 

The  unlawfulness  of  their  punishment  suggests  the  only  oc 
casion  for  sympathy  in  their  behalf.  They  died  on  a  spot 
which  they  themselves  had  deprived  of  all  the  securities  of  law, 
and  had  shadowed  with  every  sort  of  crime.  They  perished 
by  a  reckless  rage,  for  which  a  partial  sanction  may  be  found 
in  the  wantonness  and  brutality  of  their  own  deeds — in  their 
unscrupulous  robberies,  their  frequent  cruelties,  and  most  unfeel- 


FINALS,   ' 

U£  mCTiHre.  Saxon  died  as  lie  had  lived,  a  brave, 
nan.  Perhaps,  the  compunctious  writliings  which  troubled  Lim 
at  the  death  of  Florence  Marbois,  had  made  him  better  prepared 
to  die.  In  his  death  perished  the  spirit,  the  energy,  and  the 
capacity  of  the  Border  Beagles  He  had  made  them  T/hat  the? 
were  —  issolute,  compact --one  and  indivisible.  Scattered  at 
his  death,  they  lost  the  faculties  which  Vacl  air.,  them  power 
ful,  and  have  generally  given  up  th',  m-^+*  daring  professioa 
tor  others  of  a  like  but  les*-  dangerous  character.  Some,  Yik? 
Nawls,  have  gonf  t*»  TV  „**&&,  rilled  with  a  sudden  desire  of  be 
coming  pdlriots  — Outeis  have  taken  to  shaving,  speculating, 
and  banKiiig;  and  a  few,  it  is  reported,  have  formed  a  new  cor, 
federacy  which  bears  the  innocent,  if  not  unmeaning  title  of 
"  The  Hypothecators."  What  is  the  particular  occupation 
which,  under  this  head,  they  intend  pursuing,  is  only  COIIJK-'VI- 
ral.  The  more  knowing  seem  to  think  that  their  purpose  ^ 
nothing  worse  than  the  invention  of  fancy  stocks;  the  di-si^La 
/i  v/hich  they  will  dispose  of  to  the  numberless  associations  of 
humbug,  which  cover  this  scheming  nation  as  with  an  eirrV* 
plague.  The  locusts  of  the  Egyptian  never  diminished  h*« 
crops  v;ith  half  the  success  with  which  our  locusts,  the  present 
of  that  fruitful  Scotchman,  John  Law,  have  devastated  the  fie^i- 
of  A  .iosissippi.  The  Border  Beagles  were  nothhr;  to  tbcis 
p-b!ic 


UNIVERSITY 

OF 


*  I  . 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

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